


The Andrea Quill Tapes

by Deathraptor22



Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Baby Names, Baby Preperation, Cravings, Family, Friendship, Funnerals, Gen, Mentions of Child Abuse in Chapter 3, Multi, Other, Reasonable Amount of Angst, Understandably Over Protective Siblings, Unplanned Pregnancy, hurt/ comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathraptor22/pseuds/Deathraptor22
Summary: Sequel to "The Crib," but reading it is not necessary to understand what's going on.  As Quill nears the end of her pregnancy, she makes a series of instruction tapes for in case the worst happens.





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own "Class" that unfortunately belonged to BBC. 
> 
> Hi! Told you all I was going to keep writing for this fandom! I have no clue if anyone is going to read this or not, but I hope anyone who does enjoys it and maybe I can find us a happy ending.

The camera turned on and a woman with short, pale chamomile colored hair, setting on bed stared into it. She was dressed in a long, formal black dress and jacket that did very little to hide her baby bump. She her hands through her hair, letting out a sigh.  
“Okay,” Quill said to herself, her voice a sigh again, “I guess I’m actually doing this.” Her voice became more solid as she continued, “Charles, if you’re seeing this it means I’ve died in childbirth. As such, these are the instructions of how I want my child to be raised. Directions that I’ll remind you, you promised to follow to the letter. First off, and I know this doesn’t actually pertain to the tiny life that is currently threatening to tear me apart from the inside out, but I’m putting in here anyway, after today I’ve decided I don’t want a funeral. I don’t care what you do with my body, burn it, leave it in the woods, bury me under the floorboards, just don’t—don’t make a thing out of it. Please.”  
Five Hours Earlier  
April had been reconstructed just in time for Varun Singh’s funeral. As she walked into funeral home, her mother by her side, she saw Ram, stoic, but clearly upset, standing next to the iron that allegedly held his father’s cremains, she froze wondering, what to do, wondering even if coming had been the proper thing to do under the circumstances.  
Then Ram’s mother, who was by her son’s side, doing her best to comfort him even in her own grief, silently signaled for her to come over, a nod so subtle April almost missed it and wondered if it had been interpreted correctly.  
April tentively moved across the room until she inches away from Ram.  
“I’m so glad you came.” Ram said, his voice somewhat weepy, allowing her to embrace him.  
“Oh, Ram.” April responded as the embrace broke, her voice on the edge of tears as well, “I’m so sorry.” Sorry you’re father’s dead. She thought, sorry it happened because an alien warlord wanted to get to me. Sorry I’ve called you so much pain even before now… She tried to articulate those thoughts but couldn’t. Now probably wasn’t the time for them anyway.  
“Are you alright?” Ram asked. This was his first time seeing her since the Doctor had taken her away.  
He’s asking me that? April thought, staring at him. If anything, it should be the other way around. “All things considered.” She answered finally, “Probably a stupid question but are you alright?”  
“All things considered.” Ram repeated, struggling to keep it together.  
April looked around for a place to sit when she felt Ram grab her hand. “Please stay.” He requested, pleaded almost.  
April wasn’t sure if it was appropriate but she wasn’t about to leave Ram when she needed him, was asking for him, so she took his hand and stood to the side, trying not to draw attention.  
Just then a trio stepped through the threshold. Two boys in their teens and woman in her thirties who was rather pregnant. They glanced around, clearly uncomfortable, not sure they should even be there. Three payers of eyes went to the front, wondering they should go up to their friend. In the end they just silently slipped into the back.  
Seeing them, and with her daughter otherwise disposed, Jackie wheeled over to the back-row, then stopped trying to figure out a way to maneuver in-between tightly placed seats.  
“Here.” Quill offered, standing up and helping her out of her chair and into a seat, while the boys sat the wheelchair to the side.  
“Thanks Andrea.” Jackie responded as she situated herself.  
“No problem.” Quill answered, sitting down again, smoothing out her dress.  
No one says anything for a while after that, because, it’s a funeral and you’re not really supposed to, or at the very least you’re supposed to do it quietly, then Ram’s glances their way, a brief of look of recognition crossing his face before turning back to the mourners still pouring in.  
“Well, he didn’t he didn’t march over here and drive us off in rage.” Mateusz whispered, “Probably a good sign.”  
“You should go up to him.” Jackie whispered over to them.  
“I don’t really think that would be appropriate, Ms. MacLean.” Charlie whispered back over to her, anxiously.  
Before Jackie could respond Tanya stepped down the hall, dressed in black, same as everyone else, her head on a swivel, as she carefully walked up the aisle, as if the ground under her was about to collapse at a moment notice. When she got to Ram the boy embraced her before she could say anything.  
Girl’s braver than any of us. Quill thought, staring at the scene.  
After the pair finally let go, Tanya sethily hurried to back, setting in the row across from them. Her eyes kept flickering over to the other, then back.  
Shortly after that, the actual funeral starts. At first, it’s a religious ceremony and then people who knew Vaughn come up and speak, Ram the last.  
“My dad was the greatest dad.” Ram began, “I know that’s what everybody says, but he- he really was.” He took a minute to compose himself than continued. “You could talk to him about anything and he wouldn’t judge, well, not usually, he would just listen, try to help if he could. Nothing phased him.” He was silent for a moment, then Ram said, “I can’t tell exactly what I’m going to miss most, but that’s defiantly in the running.”  
Since there wasn’t anybody there would be no burial, so people started to pour out for the wake, most stopping one more time to give their condolences. That was when the little group finally got the courage to walk up to Ram.  
“I’m sorry,” Tanya, who beat them up there was saying as they got in ear shot, “I have to go before they notice I’m gone.”  
“It’s alright.” Ram assured her before she left.  
So, she hasn’t been staying away of her own free will, Quill thought, her eyes following her, Not completely at least…  
Seeing them, Ram walked up to them and they thought back a flinch, half-expecting to get it.  
“Thank you for coming.” Ram said, surprising the all by seeing to mean it, rather than simply not trying to make the seen, “Really.”  
“We are so sorry Ram.” Charlie solemnly.  
“I know.” Ram began, then turned to Quill, “Should you be out in your condition?”  
“Ram, I’m pregnant, not deathly ill.” Quill assured him, “Not yet anyway. What’s that saying? Don’t worry about me right now. How does that saying go? You take care of you?”  
“I’m not really sure it’s a saying.” Ram replied, “But yeah.”  
Sensing people behind them she said, “I think we better go.”  
Skipping the wake, the trio trudged their way home. Which gave Quill time to think, about where they had just been. About the ceremony, about people trying to convey either sympathy or empathy or shared grief or some combination, with no way to sum it up other than. “I’m sorry.” And she decided she didn’t want that for her. And she realized unless she laid out that she didn’t someone would probably give her one of some sorts. Locking the door in silence, Quill slowly went to the stairs and started up.  
“Are you feeling alright?” Charlie called after her.  
“I’m fine.” Quill responded, thumping up the stairs.  
When she got to her bedroom, Quill opened her beside dresser. In it was small cam corder. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, she had just went to bed the other night and it was there when she woke up. Presumably one of the boys had bought it for her. And presumably they bought it for this reason.  
She sat it in front of her and turned it on.


	2. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Quill refuses to pick out any names, she gets some unexpected, but not exactly unwelcome assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just wanted to thank everyone who kudoed on this. (Is that the proper past tense for that? I don't know). I didn't expect anyone to really read this at all, so it's good to know that people are not only reading it but like it.

The camera was turned again, and once again, Andrea Quill was staring into it, sitting on the bed holding two folded pieces of paper in her hand.  
“Charles,” She began gravely, “I need you to pay attention to this,” She held out the two papers towards the cameras, “These are the lists of baby names I liked. There’s a list for boy name, and a list of girl names. If you can’t figure out which is which, ask for help. I will not have my son being beat up for having the name Ada because you were too proud. Also, I discussed all these with April’s mother, so discuss it with her before you name this thing. Actually, on second thought, just let her do it. Now,” She opened her bedside table, “I am putting the lists—in here.”  
She put the boy list in then reopened the girl one. In a neat little row, it read: Ada, Joan, Mathilda, Priscilla, Roseandrea, Waverly.  
She took out a pin and added at the bottom of the list, Jacqueline.  
Two Days Earlier  
Quill was in the kitchen when she heard the whispers from living room saying, “You’re a female, and this is a female thing, in fact, it is very female thing, so you should be the one to ask her.”  
“Mateusz that is so sexist.” She heard April hissing back.  
“No, it’s just a fact.” Mateusz whispered, “If I ask her it’ll be totally inappropriate, not to mention awkward and embarrassing for everyone involved.”  
They’re going to make me get up, aren’t they? Quill thought, as that appeared to be the only way to figure out what was going on.  
“It’ll just be as awkward if I ask it.” April whispered.  
“Ask me what?!” Quill called out to them.  
The whole house got strangely quiet.  
“Come on,” Quill urged, “Ask me what?! I’m not getting up so you might as well just ask it.”  
“Fine.” She could hear April saying, “I’ll do it, you coward.” Within a few seconds she was in the kitchen, standing in front of Quill nervously.  
“Well, come on,” Quill told her, “Spit it out.”  
April was silent for a moment, then saying it so quickly the words ran together, asked, “Do you have Fallopian tubes?”  
If Quill had been drinking something she would have sputtered it across the room. As it was, she responded with a flat “What?”  
“Fallopian tubes.” April repeated, “They’re…”  
“Yes, yes, I know what they are.” Quill cut her off, “What I don’t know is why you are asking me about them.” After moment she added,” Actually, hold on a minute.” The she shouted, “Andrzejewski! Get your butt in here! I know you’re just as much to blame for this as she is!”  
Mateusz dashed into the kitchen and stood next to April, the pair anxiously awaiting what Quill had to say.  
“Why are you suddenly so interested in my tubes?” Quill asked, somehow managing to do so with a straight face.  
The teenagers exchanged looks, then April began, “We were researching how to deliver a baby and….”  
“We realized that depending on your reproductive system everything we were looking at could be wrong.” Mateusz finished for her.  
Quill looked at them for a second. “Okay,” She began, still confused by one aspect of their story, “And why are you looking up how to deliver a baby?”  
“Because you need someone to help you deliver this baby.” April explained, “And Mateusz is actually surprisingly good at medical stuff and as a female I am good at…female stuff.”  
Now she’s okay with that. Mateusz thought.  
“And why do you think I even want your help delivering the baby?” Quill pointed out.  
“Because you refuse to see an actual doctor?” Mateusz responded.  
“Well, considering the last Doctor I saw, can you blame me?” Quill reasoned.  
“I don’t think he actually had a medical license.” Mateusz reasoned. And by thought he meant prayed. Nightly. Since prom.  
“Look, any visit to an OBGYM is going the go sideways the second they realize their equipment is working right and I really do have two wombs.” Quill countered, “That doesn’t mean I want two teenage midwives who got all their training from Web M. D. “  
Both teens looked at her in surprise.  
“Yes, I know what that is.” Quill bluntly informed them.  
Getting her bearings back, April declared, “We just want to do everything we can to make sure both you and the niblet get through this okay.” In spite of being told what usually happens when a Quill woman has children, April was holding onto hope they could buck tradition and get Quill through childbirth alive.  
“The niblet?” Quill repeated.  
“Well, I don’t know what you’re thinking of calling it.” April reasoned.  
“She hasn’t picked a name out yet.” Mateusz informed her.  
April gapped at that. “You haven’t?” She asked, “You don’t have any ideas at all?”  
“No.” Quill answered, not getting what the big deal was.  
“Well, have you got books or anything?” April continued.  
“What concern is it of yours?” Quill responded,  
“I guess it’s not.” April admitted, “But still shouldn’t you at least have—something ready so it doesn’t get like, a week without a name?”  
“Listen, April,” Quill began, “Where I come from infants weren’t even given names until they made it to two years of age. Until they we just numbered them. If I remember correctly, I was Third. And we most certainly weren’t thinking of names before they came out.” Realizing she was getting nowhere she offered, “Look, I’ll make you to do, you can deliver this thing, niblet or whatever you want call it, I’ll even draw you a diagram if you want, if you drop this name thing, alright?”  
April and Mateusz nodded. However, April had already thought of a loophole.  
The next day the doorbell rang. Quill trudged down to it, and peaked through the hole, and to her surprised, found a blonde woman in a wheelchair.  
Quill opened the door. “Jackie?” She began, “What are you doing here? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, but—”  
“No, ah, it’s alright.” Jackie, assured her, “If it’s not a bad time, can we talk?”  
That was how they wound up at the kitchen table, a pack of mint chocolate digestive biscuits between them, Quill bringing over a cup of coffee for her new friend.  
“Should you really be drinking this?” Jackie asked, “I mean, I know now they said pregnant women can have it and moderation, and you have a different biology, but still—”  
“It’s decaf.” Quill answered, “It was a compromise. But I take it you didn’t stop by in the middle of workday to enquire about my caffeine intake.”  
Right to point. “April tells me you haven’t come up with any names for the baby.” Jackie admitted, “And it didn’t seem like you were planning to.”  
“And we had a deal that she was going to leave it alone.” Quill informed her.  
“Ture, but I didn’t make any deal.” Jackie countered, smirking playfully.  
“Um, very clever.” Quill responded, appearing thoroughly unamused, “Look, like I told your daughter yesterday, where I come from…”  
“We’re not where you come from.” Jackie argued, “I’m sorry, that was cruel. I meant- “  
“You don’t need to coddle me.” Quill cut her off, “I guess a—reward of sorts for your cleverness and your directness, I could—humor you for a few minutes. So, how do I start?”  
Jackie reached into her purse saying. “I still have book I used when I was pregnant with April. Took the liberty of bringing it with me. Now, I assume you don’t know the sex and we’ll need two lists?”  
“Actually, I have nothing to base this on, but,” In spite of herself, Quill put a hand on her swollen stomach, “I think it’s going to be a boy. I know it’s insane.”  
“Not at all.” Jackie responded, “I had it too when I was pregnant with April. Even before it was far along enough to tell something inside me just—told me it was girl, you know?”  
“No, no, no,” Quill said quickly, realizing where this was going, “We are not bonding over motherhood. We’re just—not.”  
“You’re the one who lead us down this road.” Jackie countered good naturedly.  
Quill stared at her, mouth agape for a moment. “I- “She sputtered, “You—” At last she got her bearings together enough to say, “You were the one talking about list!”  
“Alright, I’ll give you that.” Jackie relented, then, just to get the process started, randomly opened the book, finding herself in the boys’ J section, “Here’s one you might like, ‘Jason’.”  
“Why would I like that one?” Quill inquired. She didn’t have anything against the name, but she still wanted to know what the elder MacLean was basing her assumption on.  
“Like Jason and the Argonauts, yeah?” Jackie reasoned, “The Argonauts, they were this group of mythic warriors, and Jason was their leader. He went a little south at the end, but he was still impressive. I thought that was something, given the things I’ve learned, you’d appreciate.”  
“At the very least I’m intrigued.” Quill admitted, “Tell me more.”  
And so, Jackie explained the myth of Jason and the Argonauts as best she could remember.  
“You’re right, that did go south.” Quill said, when she was finished, “Still, not a bad namesake.” She stood up, “Just let me go get some paper, unless you brought that, too.”  
“No,” Jackie admitted, “But just tell me where it is, and I’ll get it. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”  
“It’s upstairs.” Quill informed. That was another reason Quill had been surprised to see her. Their flat wasn’t exactly wheel-chair friendly.  
“You better get it then.” Jackie replied, thought she questioned the story that the only paper in the entire flat was upstairs.  
A half hour later they had a list of six names: Jason, Alexander, Arden, Benedict, Major, Wyatt  
“Are there any other names you want to add?” Jackie asked when they were done, not sure how to ask what she wanted to.  
“Jacqueline, we just went through the whole book.” Quill reminded her, “The male names at least.”  
“It’s just—” Jackie began awkwardly, “I didn’t know if—”  
“His name wouldn’t exactly—blend in.” Quill told her, once she realized what the other woman was getting at, “I mean, people apparently name their children a lot of odd things, so maybe people would think I just—made it up, but—I probably shouldn’t take the chance.”  
“Do you mind if I asked— “Jackie began slowly, “What happened to him?” While she had learned a lot more about what had been going on the last month or so, all she knew about the baby’s conception was that Quill went into some device called a Metaphysical Engine with the school’s head teacher, who hadn’t been seen or heard from since the Shadowkin invasion, and some sort of surgeon, and came out with her freedom, a scar on her eye and a mystical pregnancy.  
Quill was silent for a moment then began. “We thought it was over—we had just, well,” She gestured to her swollen stomach to make the point, “And then Doretha, or a hologram of her of something, showed up when we were figuring out we were in the damn cabinet—”  
“Wait, cabinet?” Jackie cut her off, “As the—”  
“The WGM that until a fortnight ago was upstairs?” Quill finished for her, “Yeah, it was bigger on the inside. Anyway, she tells us there’s only power enough for one of us to get out, we fight for the gun, Ballon-that was his name-he gets it, and I’ve more or less accepted what was about to happen, then-I don’t know he meant to do it or the gun just fired like that, but—”  
“Oh, my God—” Jackie began, “Andrea, I am so sorry that happened. I am so sorry all of this happened to you.” Ever since she had gotten the whole story, Jackie had been kicking herself for not asking more questions, particularly when it came to Quill. She would have reached out to her, helped her, stood up for her, found some way to free her that didn’t involve semi-magical alien artifacts, and dodgy organizations. She knew that last one wasn’t likely, but still.  
“There was nothing you could have done.” Quill assured her, “At least not with that.” While she didn’t know the extent of the guilt the woman felt, she had gotten glimpses.  
“Maybe not,” Jackie admitted, “But there were still ways I could have been there for you, that I should have been there for you. I could have helped somehow.”  
“Well, you’re definitely helping me now.” Quill pointing out, looking and lowering her voice even though she knew they were the only two people there, “And I’m truly grateful for it.”  
“It’s my pleasure.” Jackie responded, “Really.”  
Quill felt a warm sensation inside her, which she tried to shake off, saying, “Alright, this is getting too sappy. Now, is there any way to narrow this down anymore?”  
“You should probably just keep it at that for now.” Jackie suggested, “It’s kind of hard to pick a name for someone you haven’t met yet.”  
Quill was silent for a moment. “Has April explained to you—”  
“That your species rate of death by childbirth is rather high?” Jackie cut her off, “Yes, but you yourself have also explained to me that they also usually have 6 to 7 children at a time, and you’re only having one.”  
“You say that like it makes a difference, “Quill responded, thought she wondered if it was making a difference. She had noticed that she wasn’t as drained of energy or weak as a female usually was at this point. Perhaps the change in number had something to do with it.  
“It might.” Jackie reasoned, “Maybe the whole reason your woman kept dying was so many coming out at once. That’s bound to take a toll on the body. But with this—” She made a series of gestures instead if finishing the sentence.  
“Now I see where your daughter gets her optimism from.” Quill commented, trying not to seem or actually be too hopeful.  
“Now, I know you’re certain it’s a boy,” Jackie continued, “But we should at least talk about girl names, just in case.” She took a bite out of a digestive biscuit, which had been forgotten about during the making of the boys’ list.  
Quill already had one in mind. “What about Priscilla?” She asked, “Is that normal name?”  
“Yes.” Jackie answered, surprise Quill had a name at the ready, “But, if you don’t mind me asking—where did that come from?”  
Quill silent for a minute then said, “It’s the name of a –student I’m particularly fond of.”  
“Really?” Jackie asked curious.  
“She’s a year behind this lot, so they don’t know her.” Quill explained, “They don’t know anything about her. Pris—she goes by Pris—somehow got me to tutor her and we got close. She’s very bright, but she—she has some problems. I’ve actually been meaning to ask Charles or Mateusz to see about her but—that would mean telling them about her.”  
“If you don’t have a problem with it I could ask April to see about this girl.” Jackie offered, “I’m sure she’d be glad to.”  
“I can’t ask you to do that.” Quill asked, “You might be—putting April in danger and we can’t do that again.” April meant too much to Jackie with now meant she mean—something to Quill.  
“Andrea,” Jackie began slowly, “What’s was going on with this girl?”  
“Let’s just say her parents didn’t deserve to be parents.” Quill offered for an explanation, “The proper authorities have been notified, the girl’s aunt as well. Hopefully they did the right thing.”  
“There’s got to be some way to find out.” Jackie suggested, “The school must know something. Maybe you could call them.”  
“You’d think they would do that?” Quill asked, “Since I’m not her guardian or in loco whatever?”  
“It’s worth a shot.” Jackie reasoned.  
After finding a few numbers who might know Pris’ fate and compiled a list of other possible girls’ names, it was late and Jackie had to go.  
“Are you sure you’re okay to get home alone?” Quill asked, holding the door of the cab for her.  
“I’ll be fine.” Jackie responded indulgently, getting into the cab, “Call you later?”  
“Of course.” Quill said before the door shut. She watched as the cab dove away, feeling oddly sad, but at the same time…she wasn’t sure how to described it. Renewed, maybe?  
Once the cab was out of her sight, she turned around and walked inside. She had a video to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you guys like any of those names? I haven't picked it out yet and if anyone has a reference I could use the help. Just comment below and let me know.


	3. Pris, or Quill And The Mute Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill befriends a mute student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Child abuse. Nothing graphic, just fair warning.

The camera turned on again, and once again, Andrea Quill was sitting on the bed, staring into it, this time rather perturbed. Her head down low, she held it in her hands and sighed. “Charles, April,” She began, “I am still extremely mad at you both for not telling me what became of Pris before now. I mean, I know for obvious reasons it wasn’t on the forefront on your minds when I came to, it wasn’t on mind either, but,” She finally raised her head to look at the camera, “Would it have killed—either of you to tell me she was okay once things had settled down? That being said—thank you for finding her and if I don’t make it—keep an eye on her, will you? She’s a good kid, got a bright future ahead of her even with the whole—mute thing, she just needs some better people around her.”  
Two Months Ago  
Quill gathered her things in a huff. Nothing irritating in particular had happened that day, but she was still irritated. By this planet, by the idiots she worked with, by the teenage despot she lived with. By everything. She whirled around and saw a girl nervously standing in front of her. She looked incredibly young, with thick, dull blonde hair. Quill couldn’t see her eyes because she was currently having a standing contest with the floor.  
The girl pulled out a small note pad, big enough to fit in the palm of her hand, out from beneath her shirt, revealing it was attached to a black woven cord on her neck. She wrote something down on the paper, ripped out of the pad and handed it to Quill.  
“What’s that for?” Quill asked, then suddenly it hit her who this was. “Ohhhh, you’re that mute girl from the next to last period, aren’t you?”  
The girl pulled the paper back for a minute, wrote something else and handed it back to Quill. This time she took and read what it said: Are you alright? Was the first thing it said, then a little bit under that, it said, my name is Pris, ma’am, Pris Grant.  
“Right.” Quill responded, “No offence, but you all start to blend together after a while. So, what do you want?”  
Pris wrote something out down and handed it to Quill, who too it wordlessly. I’ve been having some trouble with the material, and I was hoping that maybe you could tutor me or point me to someone who can.  
Quill read it a second time, having some trouble processing. This girl wanted her to tutor her? Her, who, was under the impression that most of the student was either afraid of or at the very least didn’t particularly like her. “Are you serious?”  
Pris nodded, quickly writing on the pad and this time just turning it where Quill could see. Please, Miss, I’ve never had this much trouble in a class in my life. At last Pris looked up revealing anguished gray green eyes with.  
Quill didn’t know why she agreed to it, boredom or pity, or maybe she recognized something in Pris even then, but she said, “Okay, let’s get started.”  
Now? Pris wrote down, her face somewhat bewildered.   
“You got some better to be?” Quill questioned.  
Pris shook her head, following her teacher.  
Three and A Half Weeks Later  
“Pris,” Quill began, one day in the middle of the session, “I want to ask you something. Something that I’m not legally allowed to ask, because of these stupid confidentially laws. I mean, I suppose I see the need from them somewhat, some things are just private, but—they take some of these things way too far. “  
You want to know why I can’t talk. Pris guessed, holding the paper out for Quill to see.  
“It’s not in any of your files.” Quill answered, seeing no point in denying it.  
Pris took her notepad off and wrote on it for a few minutes, then slipped it over, cord and all to Quill. When I was little there was a fire, the missive began, my dad got me out, but he didn’t make it. After that I just stopped talking. The doctors say it was from the trauma. I want to talk, but every time I try I can’t. Nothing will come out.  
Pris’ disability frustrated her to no end, even more so for the unusual nature of it. People mostly accepted blindness, deafness or intellectual disabilities, or at the very least accepted them as things that happened, but people raised an eyebrow at muteness because it was hardly ever seen outside of The Piano, unless it was paired with another disability. The fact that she was perfectly healthy apart from the fact that God saw fit to take her voice away for some reason, threw them.  
“Trauma, eh?” Quill responded. That was something she was well-acquainted with herself, especially recently, thought it had never cause her to use the ability of speech. Maybe she should give a vow of silence of try, see if anyone noticed. Probably not.   
Misunderstanding what Quill meant, Pris took the pad and started angrily scribbling on the pad, before shoving it back to Quill. I’m NOT making this up, I’m NOT just doing it for the attention, I DON’T want to be this way!!!  
Quill realized why Pris reacted that way. People must have accused her of faking, of wanting the attention, discounting her. And she had little way to fight them. Even if she spoke, who would listen? Suddenly Quill became very grave and sincere as she spoke. “I know you don’t. No sane person would. I know what it’s like to metaphorical voiceless, to have no one listen to you, but to be literally voiceless…oh, that must twist the knife.”  
Pris simply nodded her confirmation of the statement.  
They were both awkwardly silent for a moment then Pris noticed the picture Quill had been looking at before she had showed up her deceive, so she pointed to it.  
“Yeah, what about it?” Quill asked.  
Pris pulled out her own phone and started typing. Once she was satisfied she had found what she was looking for, she slide the phone over to Quill.   
Picking up Quill found a picture of an auburn hair with a yellow colored dog in her lap with a picture of grumpy cat at the bottom. The woman and dog’s picture read in white lettering, …In the arms of an angel…Hi, I’m Sarah McLachlan, and… The picture of grumpy cat just read No. “I don’t get it.” Quill responded, truly not getting it.  
You know, like those really sad American ASPCA commercials. Pris wrote.  
“Mm.” Andrea mused, “I’ll have to look that up.”  
That night at home she looked up Sarah MacLauchlan and ASPCA and discovers four things: One, those commercials were sad, two humans seemed to care a lot about animals, three, except for people who hurt them apparently and four, those memes were funny.  
A Week Later  
One morning when Quill came in, Pris was already waiting for her, anxiously looking down at something in her hands.  
“Good God, Pris, don’t look like someone’s gonna bite you all the time.” Quill told her.  
Pris handed her a folded-up note. Quill opened it and read to herself: I have something I want to give you, but I don’t know if giving it to you is too informal. Lowering the paper, Quill said, “Well, show me what it is and I’ll tell you.”  
Pris handed Quill a small but thick book with a stony gray cover. There was a symbol, a dot and two curved dashes and what appeared to be blood, and below it, also in blood, the word FEED. Below that in in black THE GOOD NEWS: WE SURVIVED. THE BAD NEWS: SO, DID THEY. MIRA GRANT Presumably this was the name of the author. After reading the back Quill declared, “Seems innocuous enough.”  
I saw you had a copy of the Hunger Games the other day, Pris wrote, thought this might be something you’d like, too.  
Quill turned the book in her hands. “Well, you’re probably right about it no being proper to accept gifts from students,” she smiled slyly as she added, “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt just this once, so long as nobody knows.”  
Pris smiled.  
Turning over the book again, Quill, “Mira Grant? Any relation?”  
Pris almost laughed, then stopped herself before she could, shaking her head.  
Four Days Later  
It was raining the first time Quill had noticed a bruise.  
Well, this wasn’t entirely true. She had noticed small bruises and few nicks on Pris before, but human skill was delicate, so Quill had shrugged them off at the time. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it raining the first time Quill noticed a bruise that could not be attributed the usual childhood accidents.  
Pris was slipping of her raincoat and it caught on her shirt, pulling it back enough to reveal a large bruise on her shoulder, almost as if someone grabbed her.  
“Pris,” Quill spoke up, “What is that?”  
Pris looked at her in confusion, writing, what is what?  
“That,” Quill elaborated, pointing at the now -covered area, “That bruise.”  
Pris began almost franticly scribbling. What she came up with was, I’m such a kultz, I ran into a wall this morning.  
“You ran into a wall?” Quill deadpanned, skeptical.  
Pris nodded.  
Quill stared her down, but the girl wasn’t budging. That was her story and she was sticking to it.  
Two Weeks Later  
This time something odd happened. Two things, actually. Slowly both teacher and student started slowly dropping their walls, pushing the boundaries between student and teacher. Nothing unseemly, just—sharing things. Memes, books, and things about each other, small things. The other thing was Quill noticed Pris was incredibly accident prone, as while large bruises like the one on her shoulder were rare, it seemed as if she had a new one every other day. Almost too accident prone.  
There came the day when she came in, wearing more make up than usual. Cheap stuff too, and one accidently brush up against her sleeve caused half of it to come off, revealing the deep purple bruise it was trying to hide.  
“What the Hell?!” Quill exclaimed, grabbing a tissue and going to wipe it off. Pris pulled back, but too late.  
“What the Hell?!” Quill repeated, “Okay, what is going on? And don’t you dare tell me you walked into a door. No way in Hell a door did that.”  
Pris just stared at her, tears in her eyes. She was dealing with more crap then she already dealt with normally, and the closet thing she had to a friend snapping at her sent her over the edge.  
Quill contended softened, taking the girl’s hands in her. “I’m sorry.” She began, “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. It’s just—someone is obviously hurting you and you refuse to admit it. I got frustrated. Now, if you tell me what’s going on, I—I can help.” She wasn’t sure if she could or not, but she would do her damnest to try.  
Pris just stared at her, tears welling up in her eyes.  
“Pris, I know what it’s like to be trapped.” Quill began, rising up and walking over to her, “Believe it or not I’m trapped right now. I may not be able to free myself, but I can sure as Hell free you, but you are going to have to trust me.” She took the pad and handed it to her.  
Pris took the pad and began to write, Mum was yelling and I dropped a dish….  
When unfolded was a painful story of abuse. Ever since he father died. Her mother had always been a little off but with no one to stop her that’s when things got bad. But after her mother met her stepfather, Jerry, it had been worst. Sometimes Pris met with favor, but mostly she met frowns, which evolved into fists and worst. But the end of it Pris was in tears and Quill was barely keeping her anger contained.  
“Oh, you are not staying there another night.” Quill vowed, before grabbing Pris’ wrist, “Come on, we’ll grab anything you need, then I’ll find you somewhere safe. You can stay on my couch if you have to, the place is turning into a home for wayward teens anyway.”  
Pris pulled back and wrote. Please, you’ll only make it worst. I can’t leave, not now, not when, she stopped writing at that point.  
“Finish it.” Quill demanded, “Why can’t you leave now?”  
Pris paused for a moment, then with tears in her eyes, wrote, I’m pregnant.  
For a moment the breath was taken out of Quill as it was her understanding it was not a good thing for human women to be pregnant this young. “Well, can the father help you?”  
Pris started crying even harder.  
Suddenly a horrible thought trickled into Quill’s head, turning her cold. When she was thinking was unthinkable. She knew what she was thinking was unforgiveable for humans, it was unforgiveable for the Quill, too. It was unforgiveable for every civilized society. “Is Jerry the father?”  
Pris was crying too hard and shaking too much to do anything but nod.  
At that moment something snapped inside Quill. “Let’s go.” She ordered, dragging Pris from the room.  
They wound up at Pris’ house. “Stay there.” Quill instructed the girl, before she ran the doorbell.  
Pris obeyed, and the poor was opened by a dark-haired man in a red polo. “Can I help you?”  
“You can get out of my way.” Quill ordered, pushing him aside, and going inside, heading for the stairs.  
“Hey!” Jerry exclaimed, turning around, “Who the Hell do you think you are?!” He reached out to grab Quill and she whirled around and punched him in the face.  
Suddenly Quill got a piercing pain in her head that caused her to take two steps backwards, holding on to the banister rail for support. “Seriously!” She exclaimed, rubbing her forehead and turning back around, marching up the stairs, even more determined to do this now.  
“Jerry, what’s going on?!” A shrill female voice demanded from somewhere inside the house.  
“Maxine, call the police!” Jerry ordered.  
“Yes, Maxine, call the police,” Quill called out bitterly, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell them how you pimped out your mute 16-year-old daughter who looks twelve as your husband’s concubine!”  
This stunned the pair into silence, allowing Quill to make it upstairs to Pris’ room. Finding a blue duffle just where the girl said it would be, Quill worked quickly, grabbing some random clothes from the small closet, before throwing the mattress off the bed, revealing the small, round pale blue and white box inside, one of the last thing’s Pris’ father had given her. Taking it and a bear from the bed, also a gift from her father, the one person who had really loved her apparently, Quill zipped up the bag and ran back down the stairs.  
When she got back down she realized the couple were now outside having found Pris. “You little, sult!” Maxine was scream, slapping her daughter full in the face.  
Quill summersaulted across the threshold, grabbing Maxine by the collar and throwing her against the wall of the house. “YOU! ARE! NEVER! TOUCHING! HER! AGAIN!” Quill screamed so loudly the vibrations coming from her body nearly drowned out the pain in her head. The predators were totally intimidated now, letting Quill walk away with a sobbing Pris, rubbing her shoulders and whispering, “It’s okay, you’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay. You’re free, you’re free now.”  
A half hour and a search through the phone book later, the pair stood of the doorstep of Pris’ maternal aunt. Cordelia Grant had adored her niece, but after her brother’s death, her sister-in-law, big shocker, cut off on contact between the two.  
The door opened, revealing a woman who looked a lot like Pris. Same thick blonde hair, same short stature. “Can I help you?” She asked, not recognizing her own niece.  
“Cordelia Grant?” Quill asked.  
“Yes?” Cordelia confirmed, still unsure of what was going on.  
“My name is Andrea Quill.” She began, “I believe you already know Pris here.”  
Cordelia’s eyes immediately went to the girl, in shock. “Priscilla?”  
Before Pris could even finish nodding, the woman had thrown her arms around her, pulling her and crying. When she pulled back she said, “Come in, come in, both of you, please.”  
Inside, the women sit down and they explained everything to Cordelia, who understandably so, was enraged by the time they were finished.  
“I’m calling the cops.” Cordelia declared when they were done, standing up and heading to the phone on the wall. “They aren’t getting away with this.”  
Pris became agitated again, grabbing Cordelia’s arm to stop her.  
“Pris,” Andrea spoke up, “I know that she’s your mother and for whatever reason, no matter how underserving of it she is, you apparently still love her-that is why you’re stopping your aunt, right?”  
Pris nodded empathically. This was her mother they were talking about. She may want to run a truck over her, but she was still her mother.  
“But—she hurt you.” Andrea continued, “And she allowed you to be hurt. And for that she deserved to be punished. They both do, especially Jerry.”  
Pris wrote with a shaky hand, I’m scared.  
“I know.” Quill responded, “You’d be insane if you weren’t.”  
“But we’ll be with you the whole time.” Cordelia promised, “And I’m not letting you go again.”  
Slightly reassured, Pris let go of her arm. Taking her notepad, she wrote, you should probably go. I don’t you to get in trouble over fighting with Mum and Jerry.  
Quill couldn’t argue with that. Getting arrested for clobbering people on their front lawns wasn’t exactly a low profile. Still, she was reluctant to abandon Pris. “Will you be okay?”  
I will now. Pris wrote back, eying her aunt.  
“I’ll leave this to you then.” Quill told the women, “Take care of her, will you?”  
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Cordelia assured her, “I might keep her out of school a few days, so if you don’t see her there, don’t worry.” After a moment she breathed, “Thank you bringing her back to me. “After all these years desperate to see Pris, she finally had her back, even if it was under horrible circumstances.   
“It was no trouble.” Quill responded, thought that wasn’t entirely true. For all she knew those human-shaped excrement heaps Pris had for parents had got their bearings back and called the police, and if she made it back to the flat without being taken in for questioning, Charlie would probably want to know where she had been. But it was worth it. “No trouble at all.”  
And with that Quill took her leave, fully intending to check in on the situation later. However, before she could do that, everything started happening.  
Five Days Later  
“I think that girl’s been following you.” April told Charlie, pointing behind them as a girl in white dress covered by a blue sweater who didn’t look old enough to even be in sixth form staring at them, looking scared to approach them.  
“What do you think she wants?” Charlie asked, afraid it might be something sinister. With everyone fighting and Miss Quill in some sort of coma, the last thing they needed was an invasion.  
“Only one way to find out.” April said, before walking over to the girl, who took a few steps back, her face utter terror. “It’s alright.” April assured her gently, “You’ve just sorta been hanging back there and I wanted to know if…if we could help you with something?”  
The girl surprised April by pulling out a notepad from her sweater. It took April a moment to comprehend that the notepad was attached to the cord around her neck, like some sort of necklace. That was enough time for the girl to write out, I think I need to talk to him. To clarify the point, she pointed at Charlie. All the while she looked like Death himself was holding his scythe over her.  
“It’s alright.” April assured her, taking her by the hand “He doesn’t bite, neither do I. I’m April, what’s your name?”  
Pris She wrote, allowing herself to be lead.  
Stopping a few feet in front of the boy in question, April introduced him, “Pris, this is Charlie, Charlie, this is –Pris apparently. She needs to talk to you.”  
“Me?” Charlie responded, confused. He had never met this girl in his life, what would she want with him?  
Pris began writing on the notepad again.  
“What is she—” Charlie began, but stopped when he saw April shaking her head.  
Pris erased what she had wrote, then started writing again before showing it to Charlie. I can’t speak. It read than below it, someone told me you know Miss Quill. Like, more than just from class. Is that right?  
“Yes.” Charlie said slowly, wondering who had told her.  
Pris took the notepad, carefully writing her next sentence before turning it back to Charlie. Is she alright? I can’t find her then someone told me she hasn’t been in class all week.  
Suddenly it dawned on him. “You’re the one she was tutoring, aren’t you?” He asked, then before he could think about what he was saying, he added, “I didn’t think you were real.” Quill had made some vague references to before or after school tutoring, but Charlie thought she was just using it as an excuse to be away from the flat. Tutoring didn’t really seem like her thing.  
Pris nodded, writing, she’s not in trouble for helping me, is she?  
Still processing this, Charlie slowly asked, “Why would she—”  
“Miss Quill is just sick.” April cut him off, “Right, Charlie?”  
“Right.” Charlie responded quickly, “Yes, I’m sure she’ll be back any day now.”  
Pris was hesitant a moment, considering what she was about to do, then carefully wrote, Will you see her soon?  
Finding himself unable to lie to this girl with the sad gray green eyes anymore he answered, “Yes.”  
Pulling out a buttery blue envelope, she held it out to Charlie. Taking it, he saw it literally had Quill’s name on it. “Do you want me to give this to her?” He guessed.  
Pris nodded her confirmation.  
“I’ll be sure to get it to her.” Charlie assured her, “Do mine if I ask what it is?”  
Pris pulled the notepad back towards, then slowly carefully wrote out her response. Then she paused for a few seconds, then wrote something under it. She turned it around and it had two missives. The first: It’s a long story, but I’m going to be doing homebound schooling for a while and I wanted to thank her for everything. The second: You wouldn’t happen to know Ms. Quill’s first name, would you?  
“Andrea.” Charlie answered, “Why?”  
Pris paused then wrote. That’s a good name for a girl.  
Before they could as what that meant, a woman called out, “Pris!”  
The girl had enough time to write out, I have to go. Thanks. Then she turned and headed back towards the woman.  
The pair stood there in silence, then April asked, “Do you have any idea what that was about?”  
“No.” Charlie replied, “Not a clue.” He started to open the letter when Charlie reached out and April grabbed his arm to stop him.  
“Charlie don’t.” She told him as she did so, “That’s private. Whatever’s going on is between the two of them, and if Quill wants to tell you about it she will when she can.”  
“Fine.” Charlie conceded, putting the letter in his backpack.  
That afternoon when Charlie arrived at home, he poured a glass of water in the kitchen, then went upstairs. Stopping at his room he sat the glass on the desk, the back pack on the bed and pulled out the letter, staring at it. He could very easily open it, his head was telling him he should open it, but for some reason…he couldn’t do it. Holding the letter on both ends, he carefully set it down, in the middle of the desk, as if it were made of precious, delicate glass that would break that smallest mishandling, before picking up the water and walking down the hall.  
When he got to Quill’s room she was still lying prone on the bed where they laid her, unconscious and pregnant. He momentarily wondered if maybe he should turn her over so she didn’t get bed sores.   
“Met a friend of yours today.” Charlie said awkwardly, walking over to the bedside. “Sorry about some of things I said about your—tutoring secessions. At least in my head.” He carefully opened her mouth and put the water to her lips. “Who is she to you?”  
A Month Later  
Quill was in sitting on her bed reading Blackout when her concentration was broken by the sound of April screaming “How could you not her?!” And the sound of something falling over.  
Quill sighed. Of course. “What is going on down there?!”  
Either not hearing or ignoring her, no one answered, but she heard Charlie stammering, “D-Do you remember what happened after—she—she woke up? There wasn’t exactly time.”  
“Well then why didn’t you think of it after?!” April screamed back.   
Now Quill was mildly curious, as she had never seen April this enraged with some prompting from Corkinus. Still, she wasn’t in the mood for getting up and walking all the way downstairs, especially since walk was actually more of a waddle at this point.   
“You didn’t think of it either.” Charlie pointed out.  
Quill sighed again, “Don’t make me come down there!”  
Neither of them paid her any heed, April shouting, “I wasn’t even here!” Then there was the sound of objects being thrown around. “I was having multiple surgeries to appear human! What’s your excuse?! Are you so heartless that—ugg!” More objects being thrown.  
“They’re going to make me get up.” Quill complained softly to herself before getting to her feet and waddling down the stairs.  
When she got downstairs she found a knocked over table, a lamp on the floor, and Charlie currently moving the couch to use it as a shield from April, who was currently looking for more ammo. At least until they realized Quill had arrived then both froze.  
“Okay,” Quill began, already just—done, “Not that this is my problem anymore, but I’d rather you not destroy my home while you’re dealing with your grievance. Also, I’m curious, what exactly is the issue here?”  
“Go ahead,” April spoke first, her anger barely contained, “Tell her what you did, or rather what you didn’t do!”  
Quill narrowed her eyes. “Charles,” She began, shifting her eyes to Charlie, “What is talking about?”  
Charlie fumbled for his words for a few moments, then said, “I believe it would be better if I just showed you. May I get to the stairs…please.”  
Quill stood out of the way and Charlie ascended the stairs, April following him, making sure he didn’t try anything sneaky. Which was probably a good thing as he was seriously considering throwing himself out the window to escape.  
Charlie went to his desk and pulled out the letter, in perfect condition.  
“I swear to God Charlie, if you opened it—” April began, a dangerous edge in her voice.  
“I didn’t.” Charlie promised, “I couldn’t.”  
When the pair descended back down the stairs, Quill noticed three things: One, April was still mad, thought her range wasn’t white hot anymore, just simmering, two, Charlie’s head ducked in a deep show of remorse and shame, three, the letter he was currently holding.  
“A letter from your friend.” Charlie answered, holding said letter out to her, “From Pris.”  
Quill froze for a moment in shock, “You know about Pris?”  
“She found us while you were hibernating.” April spoke up, “She’s doing homebound schooling and wanted to make sure this got to you. Neither of us have read it.”  
“You better not have.” Quill said, ripping the letter from Charlie, simultaneously resisting the urge to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze.  
“Come on.” April ordered, leading Charlie past her, “There’s still one thing we can do to make this right.”  
Allowing them to leave, Quill walked over to the couch as she opened the letter. Pulling it out she found a full-page letter on paper the same color as the envelope, in Pris’ handwriting.  
Miss Quill,  
I’m not sure when I’ll see you again. Aunt Cordy and I talk about things for a long time and decided I should do home-bound schooling until the baby comes. She’s not my guardian yet, but since she’s acting in the role of parent, they should let her sign the forms.  
They’ve arrested Mum and Jerry. The prosecutors are trying to work out some sort of deal so I don’t have to testify, but I still might have to. I’m not sure how it works, or if I can even bring myself to do it, but I’m going to try.  
This going to sound incredibly sappy to you, but I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You were more than just my teacher, you were my friend. You didn’t get anything out of it, in fact, it took up your time and I know you were frustrated sometimes, but you still helped me. And then you helped me again, more than anyone has ever helped me. It’s more than anyone’s done for me in a long time. You probably saved my life and my baby’s life, and I don’t know how I could ever repay you for that.  
Sincerely,  
Priscilla, Janine Grant  
Quill sat there for a minute, processing what she had just read. She had never realized just how much she meant to Pris, she would have never dreamed this. But…there it was, in writing.  
Her thoughts were interrupting by the door opening, and April and Charlie stepping back through. Standing between was girl with her broom-colored hair back in a ponytail, dressed in a flowered dress, with a barely visible baby bump.  
“Pris,” Quill declared, getting to her feet.  
Pris rushed Quill wrapping her arms around her swollen abdomen. The she realized what she was holding and reared back, pointing at Quill’s stomach, and then to her eye with a questioning look.  
“Right.” Quill responded. Taking Pris by the arm, she said, “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”  
And when Quill said everything, she meant everything. The fact that she was an alien, the Shadowkin, the cracks, the Metaphysical engine, all of it. When she had finished Pris just stared for a minute, stunned.  
Quill waved a hand in front of the girl’s face. “You okay there, Pris?”  
Pris nodded, writing something down and handed it to Quill. You being an alien kind of makes a lot of things make sense. In spite of herself Quill chuckled. It also read, So, you’re free now?  
“Yes, child.” Quill answered, smiling, “I am.”  
Pris smiled, writing, I’m glad. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.  
For a minute, Quill could feel that warm feeling rising up in her again. “And what about, child?” Quill asked, moving a lose stain out of the girl’s face, “Is your aunt treating you well?”  
Pris nodded empathically, quickly writing down everything that had happened since they last saw each other.  
The case against them open and shut, Maxine and Jerry had both taken deals, meaning Pris wouldn’t have to testify against them. Part of the deal was the Maxine sigh over parental rights to Cordelia. As for the baby, Pris had decided on an open adoption, where she could the family and would get updates on how the child was doing. She found a great family in Brixton who, yes, thought Andrea was a beautiful name for a girl.  
Quill’s eyes widened at this. “No, no, no, no,” She insisted, “No, Pris, that is a horrible idea.”   
Why? Pris wrote.  
“Because for one thing it’s not even my real name!” Quill answered.  
But it’s close enough. Pris wrote, And you’re one of the bravest people I know. And maybe one day she’ll come fine me and I can tell her about the brave, beautiful crazy physics teacher that helped her get here.  
Quill’s eyes went around the room. “Yeah, you might want to leave out the part of aliens. Don’t want her first impression of you to be totally insane.”  
Pris opened her mouth, as if laughing but no sound came out. As soon as she realized, she stopped.  
“Good to see you still have a sense of humor.” Quill cracked, making the girl a little less embarrassed.  
Just then there was a knock at the door.  
That’s probably my aunt. Pris wrote, She said she’d be by later to pick me up when they asked me to come.  
“Best not keep her waiting then.” Quill said, getting to her feet. When she saw Pris looking concerned she said, “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll hide behind the door.”  
Pris smiled, then wrote something down, handing the notepad to Quill. Will you be alright here?  
It took Quill a moment to realize what she meant. “Oh, I’ll be fine.” She answered. “I can you weapons now, remember?” Then she winked.  
Pris smiled, heading to the door. Sure enough, when she opened it, Cordelia was standing there. “Hey, honey, I trust everything went well?”  
Pris nodded.  
“Where’s – “Cordelia began, not seeing anyone else in the flat.  
“Right here. Miss Grant.” Quill called from behind the door, “Sorry, I’m just someone what embarrassed about this, I can only imagine what scene my—juvenile diligent and his friend may to get her here.” It was at least partially true. She was so relieved to see Pris was okay she hadn’t thought to ask many questions, but now she was starting to wonder.  
“Oh, don’t worry, they were both extremely polite.” Cordelia assured her, “Thought I thought the boy was going to faint at times.”  
Quill rolled her eyes, of he did, then stuck her head out just enough Cordelia could see her profile, “Well, thank you for letting her come over with them.”  
“Are you kidding?” Cordelia responded, “I couldn’t keep her away. You’ve made a bit of an impression.” After a beat, she added, “Are you feeling any better?”  
“Loads.” Quill lied, “She be back to school any day now.”  
“Good to here.” Cordelia replied, “Have a nice evening.”  
“You too.” Quill replied, as they exited the threshold. She shut the door behind them, locked it, and headed upstairs.


	4. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tanya's brothers try to keep from the group, Quill intervenes.

Quill stared into the camera again. “Charles,” She began, once again, it was starting to become a thing, “While I still want you to be –protective of the niblet,” she couldn’t believe she just called it that, “Don’t isolated him. It’ll do no one any good. Unless the people you’re keeping him from are truly dangerous.” She paused a moment and mused, “And maybe we are.” She sighed, “Maybe I just signed that girl’s bloody death warrant.”  
Five Days Later  
Tanya’s head was on swivel as she stood in between April and Ram, on high alert.  
“What exactly are you looking for?” April asked her finally.  
“Jarvis and Damon,” Tanya answered, “If they see me around you guys, they’ll freak.”  
“Why?” April asked. She knew Tanya had been keeping her distance from them all, only starting to associate with them in the last couple of weeks but thought it had been of her own free will.  
“Because they told me not to come around you anymore.” Tanya answered, “Any of you. Says your too dangerous. They even tried to get into a different physics class, but to do that they would have to explain what actually happened and of course what actually happened sounds absolutely insane.” She became increasing agitated as she spoke.  
April and Ram exchanged looks. Maybe they had point, given what happened. “Tanya,” Ram began, “Maybe you should—”  
“No!” Tanya exclaimed, “I know what I’m doing!”  
“Do you?!” Ram questioned, “Isn’t that kind of thinking that got us into this mess in the first place?!”  
“I don’t need you to lecture me, Ram!” Tanya shouted, “I get enough of that from them.”  
The raised voices caused other to start looking in their directions and whispering.  
“Maybe here isn’t really the place for this conversation.” April whispered.  
The trio went silent after that and went on their way.  
The day did not get better from there. As the latest substitute rambled on in physics, the group exchanged furtive, inquisitive glances. Ever since the trio’s exchange earlier, there had been a tension, not like the one during that awful week after the fateful detention, but a worry for their still somewhat separated member. Even Charlie and Mateusz, who had not been privy to conversation, could sense it, both peering over at Tanya.  
When class ended, and the students poured out, the others gathered together and Tanya started to go to them when someone called out her name. She looked up and found her brothers standing in front of the lockers. She went over to them.  
The other paused for a moment, watching as the three talked for a moment, then walked off. Noticing they were being watched, one of the boys, they couldn’t be sure which one, as they hadn’t spent enough time with them to tell them apart, even in different clothing, glared at them.  
A Day Later  
Quill trudged down the street, exhausted, in pain, and annoyed with, if not flat out mad at, Tanya. She had been continuing to train the youth, or at least trying to, and they were supposed to have a session today, only for Quill to be stood up by the adolescent genius without so much as a cancelation. Now, her human ankles were swelling, which made her heels rather uncomfortable.   
She arrived at the flat at the same time Mateusz came running up, stopping when he saw here. “Oh.” He said, “There you are.”  
“Yes.” Quill responded, going for her keys, “Here I am.  
“We’ve been looking for you.” Mateusz explained.  
Not looking at him Quill demanded flatly, “What?”  
“When you were gone when we got home, Charlie was worried.” Mateusz explained, “I circled back in case you came home.”  
Quill sighed. “I am a grown woman, I can take care of myself, and my activities are none of prince’s business.”  
“I told him these things.” Mateusz informed him, “But he was convinced you had got mugged and were lying in alleyway, unable to get up, or that some women desperate for a while had kidnapped you with the intendent of keeping you until the baby was born so she could take it. Also, I am apparently a heartless monster for being so blasé about your disappearance.”  
Quill paused for a moment. She could not believe she was entrusting her infant to either of them, especially when it appeared on them had lost his mind, and it wasn’t the one she was talking to. She turned head to Mateusz staring at him almost blankly. “I’ll remember that for the involuntary commitment hearing.” She responded, before unlocking the door and walking inside.  
“Just out of curiosity, where you were you?” Mateusz asked, following her into the house.  
“I was supposed to meet with Tanya for a sparring session this afternoon.” Quill answered, “But the little brat never showed.”  
Suddenly Mateusz realized what had actually happened. “I wouldn’t get too mad at her.” He cautioned, “I think this may actually be my fault.”  
This got Quill’s attention. “How so?”  
“This afternoon, she was with her brothers, and when she saw me she started doing this—odd pantomiming.” Mateusz explained, “I had no clue what she was doing at the time, but now that I know she was supposed to meet with you, I think she trying to ask me to tell you she couldn’t get away.”  
“Okay,” Quill responded slowly, “And why did she engage in indecipherable signals instead of just calling me like a sane person?”  
“There’s something going on with her brothers.” Mateusz answered, “Look, give me a moment to let Charlie known I found you, and I’ll tell you everything.”  
And so, after Mateusz had texted Charlie and Quill prepared herself a cup of bone stock and grabbed a couple of orange-flavored chocolate digestive biscuits—two things she had been craving a lot lately. And Mateusz told her everything he knew.  
After he hand finished, Quill drunk the last of the broth. “I know this is going to be an unpopular statement,” She began, sitting the cup down, “But maybe the boys have point. I mean, look at this from their point of view. For over a month their little sister was involved in dangerous situations, put into circumstances that most well-adjusted adults couldn’t handle, among a group of people she’s just met, some of which are magnets for more for various reasons, having been in near-death situations a couple of times due to this and they didn’t have a bloody clue until a war criminal killed their mother and up until then only surviving parent, just to break her. Can you blame them for wanting to keep her as far away from the people I just described as possible? You should consider it lucky that they didn’t switch schools.”  
“They probably wanted to.” Mateusz replied, “But that would involve having to tell their grandmother what happened. Which without proof or at least more proof than they have…”  
“That would probably mean a trip to the looney bin for all of them.” Quill finished.  
“I can understand where they’re coming from, “Mateusz admitted, “But isolating her is just going to make it worst. Especially since we’re really the only ones she can talk to about what happened.”  
Quill rose from the table, walking to the sink and putting the cup in it. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the brothers Adeola care what any of us think.”  
Two Days Later  
After two days of keeping her distance from the others, Tanya actively sought them out, when they’re all sitting together in the cafeteria.  
They all froze for a moment staring at each other, when Tanya broke the silence by asking, “Room for one more?”  
“Always.” April assured her, glad to see her again.  
Tanya didn’t hesitate, setting down between the only other girl in the gang, and Ram.   
“Have your brothers—” Charlie began, his eyes scanning the room for the young men in question.  
“So, everyone knows about it?” Tanya cut him off.  
No one responded but exchanged glances.  
“They don’t have the same lunch as me, so we’re good.” Tanya told them. After a few moments of shuffling her food around she murmured, “I just hate sneaking around like this.”  
“Have you tried telling them we’re out of the alien business?” Ram asked.   
After the dust settled from the Shadowkin fiasco, they had all decide it was best to disband, as far as being Coal Hill’s defenders was concerned. They hadn’t left the problem completely undealt with, they dropped several very detailed anonymous tips to UNIT and groups like them (both Quill and Charlie had emergency bags ready to go just in case any investigations led back to them) but so far no one was taking the bait.  
“They said we never should have started in the first place.” Tanya answered sadly. There was a strange tenseness about her, something other than the grief over her mother and the frustration of the separation from her friends.  
“Tanya, what aren’t you telling us?” April asked.  
“It’s nothing.” Tanya responded, “Can we talk about something else please? Anything else?”  
They indulged her and forgot the matter at least until they got out of the cafeteria. Not thinking about being seen together, they didn’t park. At least until someone pulled Tanya from the crowd.  
“Hey!” Tanya protested, then froze when she saw it was Damon who had grabbed her.  
“Are you alright?” He demanded, franticly looking her over as if he had just pulled her from a burning building.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tanya answered, pulling away.  
Then he turned his attention to the others. “Look,” He began, “I know we never actually said anything to you, but you lot need to stay away from her.”  
“We’re sorry about what happened.” April spoke up, “We didn’t mean for anything to happen and if had ever thought—”  
“You never did think, did you?!” Damon cut her off harshly.  
“Damon, please.” Tanya pleaded.  
“You know you’re not supposed to be with them anymore.” Damon told her, “We’re not losing you, too.”  
“Can I say something?” Charlie spoke up, believing that Damon could be reasoned with. When the other glared at him he added, “Well, you know we all want to.”  
“None of you, have anything to say to any of us.” Damon told them contemptuously, “You got yourselves involved in something none of you have any business getting into, and our mother is dead because of it!” Then he took Tanya by the arm, turning around. “Come on, Tanya.”  
All could do was watch helplessly as she was dragged off.  
At the end of the day Tanya came out of the bathroom stall and was washing her hands at the sink when she looked up. She just-stared at herself in the mirror, suddenly seething, overflowing. She let out an almost primal scream, hitting the wall in between too mirrors. All it accomplished was making her hand throb.  
“Looks like you need that training more than I thought.” A voice said behind her.  
Tanya slowly turned around and saw Quill leaned up against the entryway.  
“Miss Quill?” She asked, surprised to see her, “What are you doing here?”  
“My latest cover found something in my room that…well, let’s just say he shouldn’t have.” Quill explained, “The rest of the Apple Dumpling Gang said they could handle it, but I don’t exactly trust them to get the job done. Then I heard you in here screaming your head off and attacking defenseless walls.” After a moment she added, “Let me guess, trouble with your brothers?”  
“You too?” Tanya asked.  
“After you didn’t make our appointment Mateusz told me everything.” Quill answered.  
Tanya was silent for a full minute, then finally came out with it. “Sometimes I think they blame me. For Mum. If I hadn’t…”  
“I’m gonna stop you there.” Quill cut her off, “First off, you do realize what happened isn’t your fault, right?”  
“Do I?” Tanya countered, “I knew this was dangerous and I ran head long into and never thought about…”  
“Neither did the others.” Quill cut her off again, “Neither did the moron who thought it was a good idea to put five teenage in charge of bunch of random appearing tears in space and time in the first place. If it’s anyone fault, it’s his, and I don’t know if you’re aware of this but he has been ripped a cornucopia of new ones for it, or better yet, lay the blame at the monster that actually killed her.” Quill paused a moment, then asked, “Why do even want to still socialize with these lunatics anyway?”  
“I’m not losing anyone else.” Tanya answered firmly, “For any reason.”  
While Quill didn’t find that logic iron clad, she could see where Tanya was coming from, and realized what had to be done. “Come on.” She ordered reluctantly.  
“Where?” Tanya asked, slightly scared now, as Quill’s speech seemed to have got her worked up.  
“To wherever your brothers are.” Quill answered, “This had gone on long enough.”  
They wound up at Tanya flat. Standing in front of the door, Quill knocked. The door was opened by Jarvis, whose eyes narrowed when he saw Quill. “What are you doing here?”  
“Is that any way to greet the woman who saved your life?” Quill reminded them.  
“Sorry,” Jarvis relented, “Come in.”  
They walked. “I’ll get right to the point.” Quill began, “Are you—quite wrongly—holding Tanya at fault for the death of your mother?”  
“What?” Jarvis balked, “Where do you—”  
Quill nodded towards Tanya.  
Jarvis stopped mid-sentence. “Tanya, why would think that?”  
“Because every time I try to talk to you about –certain things, you and Damen go one about how I never should have been in this in the first place.” Tanya answered.  
“That doesn’t mean- “Jarvis began, “You know what, family meeting, right now.”  
He got Damon and the four of them sat down and had a month and half overdue conversation.  
“Tanya,” Jarvis began, “Were we upset when learned what you had been up to? Yes. Angry even? Yes. But we never blamed you for any of it, and we never will. “  
Tears were welling up in Tanya’s eyes. “Do you—do you mean that? You’re not just saying that because society says you’re supposed to?”  
“Of course not.” Damon spoke up, “Look, the only one we blame for this is the thing that killed her.”  
Seeing this was drudging up everything, Jervis said, “Come here.” He was the one closet to her. Tanya practically threw herself at him and was sobbing into his chest.  
“This probably—okay, is—over stepping,” Quill admitted, “But I don’t think you’re doing your sister any favors by forcing her away from the only people who know what happened, who know what she went through, and went through similar things themselves.”  
“You’re right, you’re over—” Damon begin.  
“Damon,” Jarvis cut him off, “Maybe she’s right.” Then he looked at Tanya, who pulled out of his chest, “You can hang out with them again, on two conditions. First no more aliens, except for her,” He pointed to Quill, “And the other one, but they’re the only exceptions, do you understand?”  
“Yes.” Tanya answered, nodding.  
Looking at Quill, he made his second condition. “And we want to know anything important that happens.”  
“I can do that.” Quill answered then stood up. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to see a man about a claw. Don’t worry, it’s not what it sounds like.”  
And with that she walked out.  
One Day Later  
Quill was lying on the bed, twirling the slime-laced claw in her hands. She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with Tanya, wondering if she did the right thing. From a certain perspective, they were all trouble magnets, herself included. Deadly trouble magnets. Plus, the way certain things were going she could easily imagine her own child being locked up in this flat if she wasn’t there to stop it. So, she slowly sat up, took out the camera and turned it on.


	5. Charlie The Mother Hen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie becomes rather...attentive in rearguards to Quill. To the point it drives her nuts.

The camera turned on again, and Andrea Quill was again peering into it.  
“Charles,” Quill began, “We need to talk about your recent behavior. Well, technically we just did, but I’m summarizing that conversation here for posterity. If it comes down to you raising this child you cannot do it on your own. Have your boyfriend or one of the others assisting you at all times. You are the mother of all mother hens and I have no doubt you’ll be a helicopter parent as well, and I won’t have him suffocated.”  
Over a Month and A Half Earlier  
Quill woke up in the middle of the night, wanting something salty. No, no sweet. No, both. What? Oh, crap, she thought, Is this a craving? No, Quill don’t cravings? Do we? The more she thought, about it, she couldn’t be sure.  
She went to the kitchen and started opening cabinets and pulling open drawers. She found chocolate. That would work for the sweet craving. She found a bag chip. The would work for the salt craving. She opens the bag and started eating, but it wasn’t stratifying the craving. She followed it down with the chocolate. Didn’t work either. She put the chip on top what was left chocolate and stuck it in her mouth. Not working. “Right,” She said out loud, going to the coat closet, “Time for plan B.”  
She put on coat and got a pair of shoes on. That was when the light flickered on, revealing Charlie at the switch, a little dazed. “Quill?” He asked, “What are you doing up? And why are you dressed?”  
“I’m going out.” Quill answered, heading for the door.  
“Quill, it’s two in the morning.” Charlie pointed out, “What could you possibly need that can’t wait until the sun comes up?”  
“I’m having some kind of craving,” Quill answered, “That’s when…”  
“Yes, I know what a craving is.” Charlie cut her off, “I’ve done the research.”  
“Why were you doing research?” Quill asked, then decided to let it drop, “Anyway, nothing in this house is doing it for me, so I’m going to find something that will.”  
As she turned to go Charlie called out, “I’ll do it.” He paused a moment then elaborated, “I’ll go do it, I just—need to get a coat.”  
“Seriously?” Quill responded, not sure what to make of his sudden concern.  
“Yes.” Charlie replied, going for the closet, “Just tell me what you want.”  
“Something simultaneously sweet and salty.” Quill instructed, “Think you can manage that?”  
“I’m sure I can find something.” Charlie replied, heading for the door, seemingly unaware that he forgot something rather important.  
Quill almost let him leave that way, but figured it would impede is journey, which only prolog the ordeal. “Charles!” She called out.  
Charlie whirled back around.  
“You might want to put some shoes on.” Quill suggested.  
Charlie looked down and saw that, yes, he was still barefoot. He wasn’t even wearing socks. “Right,” He responded, “I’ll just be one moment.” And with that he hurried back up the stairs, leaving a chuckling Quill behind him.  
A half an hour later Quill was sitting in a chair with a copy of Carrie, unable to get back to sleep, when Charlie came back through the door. “I think I’ve done it.” He declared in the matter of a scientist who had just had a break through after weeks of mental block, or some other like achievement. He ran over her and poured out the contacts of the bag in his hands, which was four smaller, colorful bags. One of chocolate covered potato chips, one of what appeared to be pretzels stuffed with vanilla icing, the other pretzels stuffed with fudge of some kind, and the final one…  
“Slated cameral?” Quill reading the label, then looking up at the bringer for clarification.  
“It’s a sweet stick substance, except mixed with slat.” Charlie explained, “The woman at the petrol station said this should do the trick, once she determined I did not intend to rob the place and was not insane.”  
“I think that second one is in doubt.” Quill replied, opening the bag and taking it out, sticking it in her mouth. It wasn’t too salty, but not too sweet either. It was just right.  
“How is it?” Charlie asked nervously.  
“Perfect.” Quill answered, jamming another one in, “Thanks, kid.”  
“Do you need anything else?” Charlie asked.  
“No, I’m fine.” Quill said, still scarfing down the cameral, which at that moment were the most important thing in the universe to her.  
Still Charlie, sat down, watching her intently. It was giving her the creeps. “Charles,” Quill began slowly, “What do you think you’re doing?”  
“I just—want to be here in case that changes and you need something.” Charlie explained.  
“Well, it’s disturbing.” Quill told him, “Stop.”  
Charlie adjusted himself so that he was looking away.  
“I meant go back upstairs.” Quill elaborated.  
“Oh,” Charlie responded, slowly stand, “Well, if you do decide you need anything, anything at all…you know where to find me?”  
“Yes.” Quill answered, still munching on the camerals as Charlie went back up the stairs.  
Two Days Later  
Quill had finally got to the final section of Carrie. She would have been done by now but she had to look into whether or not a girl had actually one a telekinetic rampage through Maine. The copyright section said the book was fiction, but then what was with the exerts from other books on the matter? So, now she knew what an epistolary novel was.  
She had just reached the last excerpt from ‘My name is Sue Snell’ when she felt something cool on her stomach. She slowly lowered the book to find Charlie had snuck in while she was engrossed in the story, had lifted up her shirt and was now rubbing some pale-yellow goop into the skin on her stomach.  
“What the Hell are you doing?!” Quill screamed, jumped off the bed and chucking the book at him for good measure.  
“It’s not whatever you’re thinking!” Charlie responded, ducking out of the way of the projectile novel, “It’s supposed to prevent stretch marks.”  
Quill paused for a minute in surprised confusion. Getting her bearings back she screamed, “Well, that is actually kind of sweet, but you can’t just sneak into my room and put stuff on me! You can’t touch me without my permission anymore!”  
“I’ve only done it the one time!” Charlie protested.  
“That wasn’t exactly what I— “Quill began.  
By that time, Mateusz, having heard the commotion, came up the stairs. “What is going on?” He asked, surveying the scene and walking to help Charlie to his feet.  
“Your boyfriend stuck in here and put—things on me without my consent, that’s what!” Quill shouted.   
Mateusz picked up the offending jar, which had fallen to the ground in the melee. “Coco butter?” He read aloud.  
“I read it helps with stretch marks.” Charlie repeated his explanation.  
“That’s actually kind of sweet.” Mateusz replied.  
“Yes, but sneaking up on someone to apply it is creepy.” Quill countered.  
“You’re right.” Mateusz repeated, “I’ll talk to him.” He handed the jar to her, “You still might want this.”  
Three Days Later  
Quill was making the short journey from the kitchen to the living room when Charlie came down. “What are you doing up?” He asked hurrying to her.  
“It’s called walking.” Quill snarked.  
“You shouldn’t be on your feet.” Charlie informed her, then scooped her up, bridal-style, and started heading back to the kitchen.  
“Put me down!” Quill screamed, beating Charlie about the arms, and shoulders, “And I was going the other way!”  
“Sorry.” Charlie said, carrying a struggling Quill to the living room.  
“I still want you to put me down!” Quill shouted, still beating him, but he seemed to pay no heed to the blows. He made it to the couch and gently lowered her onto it. “Comfortable?” He asked.  
“If it will make you stop.” Quill responded.  
Charlie just looked at her, as if confused.  
“Yes!” Quill exclaimed.  
“Good.” Charlie responded, “Now, what else do you need?”  
“Something to hit you with.” Quill growled.  
“That seems a little extraneous for someone in you condition, how about some really strong poking?” Charlie suggested.  
Quill blinked several times, processing what had just been said. “Okay,” She finally answered, very slowly, wondering if she could have somehow slipped into some sort of alternate universe without realizing it.  
“Just give me five minutes to find a stick and I’ll be right back.” Charlie promised, before running off.  
Quill looked around, bewildered. What had just happened? After few moments she shrugged it off and picked up the copy of Thinner she had left there, beginning to read again.  
At least until five minutes later, true to his word, Charlie came back in carrying a long stick.  
“What is ?!” Quill exclaimed, lowering her book her eyes widening.  
“I know you probably wanted something bigger,” Charlie responded, “But this really all the fire power you can handle in your condition, so it will have to do.” Then he handed the stick for her to take. “Just…could I maybe have a moment to prepare?”  
“Sure.” Quill agreed, taking the stick. She needed a moment to wrap her head around what was happening anyway.  
Charlie grabbed a chair and placed acrossed from the couch before sitting in it, grabbing onto the sides and closing his eyes. “Okay.”  
Quill reached out with the stick and poked Charlie, tentively at first, then, as she got her bearings back, poked hardened. Okay, she thought, this could actually be fun.  
And so, Quill spent the next half hour pocking Charlie with the stick, which he passively took with just the occasional whimper of surprise at a particularly harsh blow, before the session was interrupted by pressing on her bladder. She tried to ignore it, taking a few more pokes at her old enemy, bit the pressing became more urgent. She put the stick down and slowly stood up.  
It took Charlie a few moments to realizing the jabs had stopped, but when he did his eyes fluttered and saw Quill walking away. “Where are you going?”  
“I have to use the toilet.” Quill answered, “Stay there, we can pick this up in a minute.”  
However, Charlie stood up and Quill realized what she was about to do. She picked up the stick going, “Eh! No. No, you are not picking me up again. I do not need to be carried. Just stay there or excretion or not, I will hit you with this thing so hard your grandchildren will feel it!!” Then she slowly stepped backwards towards the stairs.  
A Week Later  
Quill had sit down with a blow of oatmeal with peaches, apples, and raspberries on it-she had been craving fruit—and cup of coffee. She put the cup to her lips when she heard an all-too-familiar voice say, “Are you sure you should be drinking that?”  
Quill glared at Charlie over the coffee cup. “It’s fine in moderation. I looked it up.”  
“But that’s for a human fetus,” Charlie pointed, “This is part Quill, part—what species was the father?”  
“None of your business.” Quill retorted, “Look, this was cute was at first, but I swear to all that is scared to both us if you get in-between me and coffee I’ll—”  
Just then Mateusz stepped in from out of nowhere, saying, “Hold on. He went over to one of the cabinets and opened it, saying, “I knew this was going to happen eventually, so I got this.” He pulled out a green can, “It’s decaffeinated coffee. Basically, it’s coffee without the caffeine. I trust that this will be a sufficient compromise.”  
Quill nodded as Charlie grabbed the can and the press.  
Four Days Later  
Quill and Mateusz were both in the living room, Quill thumbing through a book, Mateusz only half-paying attention to some true crime drama that just happen to been playing when he switched the television, on, when the door opened, causing both of them to turn.  
“It turns out, there are seven different kinds of chocolate digestives,” Charlie began, heading to the pair with a suspiciously large bag, “I wasn’t sure what kind you wanted, so I got some of each, and a couple of packages of plain in case you had changed your mind.”  
Quill looked inside the bag and her eyes widened. There were at least twenty packs of digestive biscuits.” Charles,” She balked, looking up, “How did you even afford all these?”  
“You don’t want to know.” Charlie replied.  
“What did you do, sell yourself for biscuits.” Mateusz joked.  
Charlie shifted.  
“Oh, my God, did you?!” Mateusz exclaimed.  
“No!” Charlie answered emphatically, “No, I did not sell myself for biscuits!”  
Amused at the boys’ discomfort, Quill started snickering. She stopped long enough to ask, “Why didn’t you just call me to ask?”  
Charlie was silent a moment. “I never thought of that.”   
A Week Later  
“She’s not anywhere in the house.” Charlie declared, frantic, coming down the stairs.  
The couple had come home to find Miss Quill nowhere in the house, which in and of itself would not be so alarming, but she had been going out a lot less since the pregnancy, partly to conceal the suddenness of it, partly because as it advanced she didn’t feel like it.  
“Alright,” Mateusz urged, “Just—clam down. She probably went shopping or to visit Pris or something else.”  
“Then why didn’t she call one of us?” Charlie responded, still in a border-line panic.  
“Because she is a grown woman who can take care of herself and it’s none of our business?” Mateusz countered.  
“Anything could have happened to her.” Charlie continued, not paying his boyfriend any heed, “She could have been mugged—”  
“You do realize this is Miss Quill we’re talking about?” Mateusz reminded him, “I would actually feel sorry for anyone who tried to mug her.”  
“She’s pregnant now!” Charlie exclaims, “That changes things, it puts her at a great disadvantage! She could be one her back, unable to get up like one of those creatures—the ones with the shell—turtles—or what if some crazy women desperate for child kidnapped intending to hold her until the baby’s born. She won’t know it’s a high-risk pregnancy! And even if she did she doesn’t need Quill want once she has the baby—” Charlie ran with his fingers through his hairs, officially freaking out.  
Mateusz walked up to him. “You need to calm down,” He told him, “Just take a deep breathe. Pregnancy hasn’t slowed her down so far. You’re, honestly, over reacting.”  
“Over reacting?!” Charlie balked, “Over reacting?! “He looked around a moment before saying, “At least it’s better than under reacting! Seriously, a woman had disappeared, how can you be so blasé about this?! What kind of heartless monster are you?!”  
Realizing there was only one way to defuse the situation, Mateusz, responded “Okay, let’s got look for her then?”  
“Good idea.” Charlie said, already heading for the door. He turned around and inquired,” Do you think we should bring some sort of weapons. I mean, if she left the house of her ow accord she probably took the gun, but we could grab some knives, or the stick…”  
“Just go.” Mateusz cut him off this close to losing it.  
Over A Week Later  
It was the baby proofing that brought things to a head.  
Quill nearly tripped over the baby gate when she headed for the stairs. She caught herself, then looked down to see the white plastic fencing. “What the—” She began, then realized at once who was responsible, “Charles Smith!”  
It was Saturday and the boys had been sleeping in, but Charlie practically fell out of the bed at the sound of Quill screaming his name. He processed it was in anger after a moment but still ran to her anyway. “Yes?” He asked.  
“What is this?” Quill asked, shaking the gate.  
“It’s a baby gate.” Charlie answered, “It keeps the baby was falling down the stairs and cracking its skull open.”  
“The baby’s not even here yet!” Quill responded, “The only one in danger in cracking their skull is me when I trip over this thing because you didn’t think to warn me!”  
“Oh my God are you alright?!” Charlie explained, leaning in to examine her head.  
“Get off of me!” Quill exclaimed, pushing him a few feet back. She took a deep breathe, closing her eyes, then said, “I didn’t actually fall. Now, will you please remove this thing so that I can go downstairs.  
“You just have to do this.” Charlie responded, leaning down and unlatching the gate.  
“Thank you.” Quill responded, marching down the stairs. After a few seconds she realized she was being followed. Her eyes glanced over to Charlie, “What are you doing?”  
“I wanted to make sure you got wherever your going alright.” Charlie replied.  
For some reason, that was when Quill snapped. One benefit of Charlie’s sudden obsession, she soon found, was that he was too petrified of hurting her to fight back much as she got him in a headlock. “Mateusz—whatever the Hell your middle name is, Andrezejewski!” She called out, “Wake up and start making calls! We’re having an intervention! Now!”  
“Was tying him up really necessary?” Jackie asked, looking at Quill and Charlie, who currently had his wrist lasted to a kitchen chair, with a cloth wrapped around his mouth.  
“That’s what I said.” Mateusz informed her.  
“Then why didn’t you stop her?” Asked Tanya, who thought that the binding was maybe taking it too far.  
“I did and she fought me off with that stick.” Mateusz said, pointing to stick I Quill’s hand, the one that Charlie hand given to her not that long ago, one end now sharpened with a point.   
“Trust me, Tanya.” Quill cut in, gesturing with the stick, “If you knew what I’ve been putting up with you’d see this is for the benefit of all.”  
“What exactly have you been putting up with?” Damon, who had insisted on being privy to the meeting, asked.  
“Charlie’s been rather…attentive to Miss Quill lately.” April explained.  
“And sometimes he can take it a bit…overboard.” Mateusz added.  
Shocked that his own boyfriend seemed to be turning against him, Charlie made protest through the gag.  
“To the level of suffocating!” Quill continued, her feet actually going a few inches off the grow.  
“And why are we all here?” Ram spoke up.  
“Because,” Quill began tersely getting tired of being interrupted, “Between the –” She had to do a quick head count, “Seven of us maybe we can bring him back sanity!” She pointed at Charlie in case they forgot who see was talking about.  
Charlie again tried to say something, but again no one could understand because of the gag. Deciding enough was enough, Mateusz reached to remove it, Quill blocked him with the stick. “This will go a lot faster if he can reply.” He reasoned.  
Quill relented, pulling back, allowing Mateusz to remove the gag. “I promised you I would take care of your child.” Charlie began, “And I am doing that. And you. And…” His voice trailed off.  
“Go on Charles.” Quill urged, “And what?”  
“I treated you so terribly before.” Charlie admitted, “And this is the only way I wan make up for it.”  
“So, what you’re Sue Snell asking Tommy to take me to prom?” Quill summarized.  
“Huh?” Charlie responded.  
“It’s a metaphor.” Quill explained, “Look, what you’re doing is admirable and admittedly, sometimes even actually helpful, but you took it way too far. Pregnancy has not impeded my ability to walk.” After beat she added, “At least to the point where I need to be carried.”  
They all looked at the trio like, He did what?  
“I talked to him about that one.” Mateusz spoke up, “ Along with some other things he gets are not appropriate now.”  
“Alright, I think I know what we need to do.” April spoke up, “We just need to make a list of things that are actually kind of sweet and things that are insane.”  
Two hours later, they had the two lists.  
“Okay,” Charlie said, “I think I go it now. Can you untie me?”  
Quill tilted her head, “I don’t know…” She mused.  
“Andrea,” Jackie spoke up, “I’m sorry, but you have to untie them before this becomes kidnapping.” She was pretty sure it was already passed that point but thought it best not to point that out.  
Quill rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright.” Then she began the process of untying the boy.  
Later after the group had disburst, Quill carefully headed back up the stairs, with the copy of Carrie. After checking to make sure no one was in there, she walked into the boys room and laid it on the bed. Then she went to hero own room and pulled out the camera.


	6. Fantomina, or Love In A Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill finds Ballon's niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the exception of the final alias, all of Gluka's aliases come from the short story "Fantomina: Or, Love in a Maze." Since the story is about a young woman who takes on many different guises, I thought it was fitting. I also used it for the title, but this time it's paternal love, rather than romantic love, and Flynn has very little idea what he's doing so I think it deserved an upgrade from Maze to Labyrinth.

Quill stared into the camera. “This one’s for all of you,” She said gravely, “I know it has nothing to do with the baby, but I’m trusting you all to do this. Keep an eye on Flynn and his cronies, and watch out for Dana, Incognita, or Celia or whatever see wants to call herself. I don’t trust him. I mean, he seems okay enough, but he’s still a thief and she’s still a shapeshifter And I still owe her uncle.”  
One Year Earlier  
Flynn looked in the window of the jewelry store. He was just going a quick look over but from what he could tell he had work cut out for him. High-Tec system, flesh and blood guards at all the entrances and exits, everything under glass.  
That was when he heard the screaming from the alleyway.  
None of my business He thought as he turned around, then processing that it was a voice of a child he froze. Oh crap. He thought, turning around and running for the alley.  
Sure enough, he found man standing over the child—at least that’s what he thought it was, with a tire iron, about to throw it down on his helpless victim.  
“Hey!” Flynn shouted, not even bothering to try and hide the accent as he usually would while in the States, pulling out his pistol and firing into the air. Startled, the man turned around. “Just leave now friend, leave the kid be and no one has to get hurt.”  
“Have you seen it man?!” The attacker replied, in slightly slurred voice that mand Flynn wonder how much the man had, had to drink that night, “It’s a Goddamn freak!”  
“That may be,” Flynn admitted, “But it’s still a defenseless child, so I will give you one chance to BACK AWAY.”  
The man responded by raising the iron, charging at Flynn. Flynn didn’t hesitate, shooting the man in the arm. The man grabbed his injured arm with his hand, dropping the tire iron to the ground and groaning in pain.  
“The next time I won’t shoot to wound.” Flynn warned him.  
This time the attacker took heed, running as fast as his legs would carry him, and Flynn walked over to the child, which was slowly forming into what looked like a girl. “Hey,” He said softly, crouching down, keeping a short distance between the two of them, “Did he hurt you?”  
The girl didn’t answer, just slinking back deeper into the alley, staring at Flynn with fearful blue eyes.  
“It’s okay.” Flynn assured her gently, “I’m not like that bad man, I want to help you.” When saw that was going nowhere, he suggested, “Look, why don’t we just start with me names? People call me Flynn. Goran Flynn.”  
“Gluka.” The girl answered finally, staring him down.  
“Well, Gluka.” Flynn responded, “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”  
Five minutes later, Flynn and Gluka were standing in front of an apartment door, which was opened up by a woman with long brown hair, dressed in a blue blouse and white pants. Even though she knew the pair were coming, her eyes widened at the sight of them, speficlly the injured girl.  
“Gluka, this is my cusion Benna.” Flynn introduced the woman, “Benna, this is Gluka.”  
“Come in.” Benna urged, ushering them inside.  
They set the girl down at the table, sitting a bowl of something white and yellow with a dish of apples next to it. “Come on honey.” Benna encouraged the girl, “You need to eat.”  
Gluka stared at it for a moment.  
“It’s alright, it’s just oatmeal.” Benna told her.  
She put a bite of the oatmeal in her mouth and found herself unable to stop eating it. It was scalding hot, burning her tongue and inside of her cheeks, but she was too hungry to care. She took a slice of apple from the dish and put into it. It was crisped, sweet, and full of juice.  
“Those are Egermount Russet.” Benna told her, “Aren’t they lovely? I brought a bunch down with me. Why don’t you just eat on that while I go over here and talk to Flynn?” She took Flynn to the side. “Goran, why did you bring her here instead of just calling the cops?”  
“Well, for one thing when I found her I was in the middle of certain…actives.” Flynn began.  
“Of course, you were.” Benna responded, resisting the urge to raise her eyes to ceiling. She knew what her cusion did for a living, and, while she couldn’t and never really tried to stop him, she didn’t approve.  
“But that’s not the only thing.” Flynn continued, guiding Benna back to the table. “Gluka, do you think you can trust Benna enough to show you what you can do?”  
Gluka looked at Benna wearily, then held out her hand, switch became to change shape almost as if were clay, into a spoon.  
“Oh my God.” Benna gasped.  
“Now you see why I couldn’t call the cops?” Flynn responded.  
“What is she?” Benna asked.  
“That’s the thing, she won’t tell me.” Flynn replied, “She’s too scared. I thought maybe—you could help.”  
I’ll give it my best shot. Benna thought, crouching in front of the girl, “Gluka, sweetie, I know whatever this is must be very scary for you, but you can trust us. We want to help you, but we can’t if you don’t know what’s going on.”  
Gluka looked at the people in front of her, then back to the ground. “We’re called the Lore.” She said softly.  
“Okay,” Flynn said, “The Lore, that’s a good start. I would assume that the Lore are some sort of species from another planet?”  
Benna looked at him in disbelief.  
“Oh, like that wouldn’t be your third guess.” Flynn countered.  
Gluka nodded. “My planet was attacked. My family—we planned to all meet here, but my parents—” Her voice cut off as she started to cry.  
Flynn, the closet to her, pulled her into an embrace and started humming. It was soothing, comforting. As Gluka cried herself out, between the exhaustion, and lethargy over taking her as the warm food hit her system, and the soothing humming, she fell asleep.  
Two Days Later  
“Goren, don’t do this.” Benna pleased, watching him pack.  
“Don’t be so dramatic, Benna.” Flynn responded, continued to pack, “If Fantomina’s gonna survive in this world, she can’t go on being an unperson. I know a guy in New York who can fake all the documents she needs.”  
The name Fantomina had been picked mostly as a joke, a character who was mistress of disguise, even that wasn’t her real name. Both adults agreed a better human name would have to be picked later.  
“I can take her to the farm.” Benna suggested, “She can live there, with me, I can will it to her when I die—”  
“And live her life cut off from the rest of the world? “Flynn countered, turning around to face the woman, “That’s not living.”  
“And living on the run with you is?” Benna challenged.  
“I’m not on the run.” Flynn protested, “I have never been connected to anything.”  
Benna paused a moment, rubbing her head in frustration and taking a moment to come up with an argument. “Well, this might get the cops attention. Think about it. A lily-white Croatian guy gallivanting around with a little girl who’s one shade away from having the skin tone of plain coffee? That’s gonna at least raise a few eyebrows.”  
“I’ll tell them a vague version of the truth: she’s adopted.” Flynn reasoned, “Or maybe she can give herself a little family reselmce.”  
Suddenly a horrible possibly dawned on Benna. She didn’t want to believe Flynn capable of it, but she had to accept the possibility. “Oh my God,” She gasped, “You want to use her.”  
“What?!” Flynn balked, before lowering his voice so Fantomina couldn’t hear them in the bathroom, “No!”  
“Girl who can shape sift into anything she wants,” Benna elaborated on her theory, “Make a Hell of a con woman.”  
“I can’t believe you would—” Flynn began, paused to get a hold of herself, then said, “I can assure you, that’s not my intention.”  
“Well then why?” Benna challenged.  
Just then Fantomina appeared, coming from the bathroom.  
“Hey,” Flynn greeted her, maybe a bit too brightly, standing up, “You ready?”  
“I think so.” Fantomina replied, sounding rather unsure. She turned to Benna. “Thank you. For everything.”  
“It’s my pleasure.” Benna told her, “Now, if you need anything you call me, okay? My number’s in his phone.”  
Fantomina narrowed her eyes, not sure what a phone was, but agreed, “Okay.”  
They drove in silent for an hour and a half before Fantomina asked, “Why are you doing this?”  
“Doing what?” Flynn responded.  
“Helping me?” Fantomina elaborated, “No one else did.”  
“Because you were a helpless little girl who didn’t do anything to deserve that, and that was a very bad man.” Flynn explained, “And not everyone is like that bad man. Some people are good. In fact, most people are good, if you give them half a chance.”  
“Like you?” Fantomina guessed.  
Flynn let out an uneasy chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m good. Just—less bad than some people.”  
Three Days Later  
“Can I get another profile, honey?” The man in the blue hat with the camera asked.  
Fantomina did as she was told, turning around.  
“Beautiful.” The man beamed, taking the picture. “Okay, I think I have enough now, so why don’t you just wait here with dad while I work on these?”  
The reference of Flynn in familial terms made Fantomina uneasy, and she shifted awkwardly.  
“I’m not her father, Marcus.” Flynn corrected him, “I’m just looking after her.”  
“Uh, huh,” Marcus responded, “And what exactly does that mean?” If anyone else would have come to him with this request and a child that clearly wasn’t theirs Marcus would have already made an anonymous call to the cops. He would do a lot of thing, but he drew the line at human trafficking, especially when it came to kids.  
“Nothing untoward.” Flynn assured, “She’s just in trouble in I’m helping her, now could you please lay off the questions?”  
“Alright.” Marcus gave in walking away.  
Marcus took most of the day doing his work, and by the time he got back to his customers, Fantomina was half asleep under Flynn’s jacket.  
“Here you go.” Marcus said, exchanging the envelope for the rest of the cash, “Ten new identifies that will past any litmus test.”  
“Thanks again, Marcus.” Flynn replied, opening the envelope and checking the identies over.  
“No need for thanks.” Marcus replied, “It’s not like I did it for free.”  
Flynn nodded, picking up Fantomina and walking out. Welcome to the human race kid. He though.  
Two Weeks Later  
Claudia Bloomer’s hand was melted into the lock. She looked at both in deep concentration.   
It’s just an experiment. Flynn told himself as he watched her, just to see if she can. I’m not going to ask her to do it.   
There was click of the mechanism, then she pulled her hand out, reforming it, and the door slowly opened. “How did I do?” She asked.  
“Excellent.” Flynn praised, “Good job, honey.”  
He started calling her honey a few weeks in. He didn’t really intend to, it just started. At least with both their name’s changing every few months, weeks sometimes, it was something consistent.  
“Does that mean I can come with you?” The young Ms. Bloomer asked hopefully.  
“Sorry, honey,” Flynn responded, crouching down so he was her size, “Not just yet. Just stay here, do your lessons, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He paused a moment before adding gravely, “But if I’m not back by the time the food runs out, call Benna, tell her where we are, and she will come get you, okay?”  
“Okay.” She reluctantly agreed.  
“Good.” Flynn replied, good naturedly ruffling her hair before standing up, “See you in a few days.”  
A Month Later  
The next time they were in Texas it was at Benna’s farm. It had been her parents and now it was hers. The farm consisted of several heads of cattle, a few horses and an apple orached. She did fairly well for herself selling the milk and the fruit and occasionally meat.  
Incognita had blast. She helped the hands with the last of the apples, and in the afternoon Benna took her for a ride on the horses. First, they ride together, then the second time, they each road their own.  
“You’re doing fine, sweetheart.” Benna assured her, as they road side by side, “You’re actually quite good at this. Jupiter there must recognize your confidence.” After a moment she glanced to the girl and added, “I trust those my horses trust.”  
A warm feeling welled up inside Incognita at the compliment. She glanced over at Flynn, who was watching them for the fence, smiling. “Benna, I have a question.” She said.  
“Well, I may have an answer.” Benna replied.  
“If you and Flynn are cusions…why do you have different accents?” Incognita asked.  
“Flynn’s mom, my Daddy’s sister, was from Texas,” Benna explained, “But she met a business man from Sibenik, a city in country called Croatia. Well, it use to be called something else, but I don’t want to get off on tangent, so we can get to that later. Anyway, she fell in love him, he fell in love with her, they got married and went back to his country together. So, Flynn, grew up there, and I grew up here.”  
That night, sitting around by the fire, Benna got out her guitar and started to play, “Johnny’s Daddy, was takin’ him fishin’, when he was eight years old. A little girl came through the front gate, holdin’ a fishin’ pole. His dad looked down and smiled. Said ‘We can’t leave her behind. Son, I know you don’t want her to go, but someday you’ll change your mind’. And Johnny said…”  
Leaned up against Flynn’s side, exhausted from the eventful day, Incognita was slowly lulled to sleep by the melody.  
“I think she’s asleep.” Flynn whispered when he finished.  
“There’s a bed in there for her.” Benna whispered back, pointing down the hall to guestroom.  
“Thanks.” Flynn said, still whispering, carefully, picking her up, “You’re so good with her, by the way.”  
“So are you.” Benna responded, also still whispering, “A Flynn, I haven’t seen you this happy in….” Her voice trailed off, reluctant to bring up Agatha, the woman who had lured Flynn into a life of crime, before he caught her in bed with another man. A man whose child she was pregnant with. “You know, a while.”  
“That’s because, I am.” Flynn replied, smiling, then he took his girl down the hall.  
Three Months Later  
On a street in France a driver had no time to stop as a girl dark-hair girl with skin the color of chestnuts pulled out in the middle of the road. He lept out of the phone the phone in his hand to call 911. “D’accord, gamin?” He asked, kneeling beside her. (You okay, kid?)   
“Ohhh!” The girl moaned, “Ohhh, it hurts!”  
“Tout va bein, les paramedica son ten route.” The diver told her, “Rests just avec moi gamin, d’accord?” (It’s alright, the paramedics are on the way. Just stay with me kid, okay?)   
Meanwhile, nobody noticed the dark-haired woman sneaking the back of the car and pulling out a small box, then running away, signaling to the girl.  
“Actually,” The girl said, sitting up right, “I think I’m good. But thanks.” And with that she took off.  
“Gamin!” The driver called out, “Gamin!” (Kid! Kid!)  
As soon as she rounded the block, the girl morphed into a bird and took off.  
The dark-haired woman joined Flynn and a man in a man in a brown T-shirt. “Got it.” She grinned in a British accent, holding the box out for them to see.  
“Great job, baby.” The man in the t-shirt said, in American accent kissing her.  
Flynn, however, had other concerns. “Where’s Celia?”  
“She’ll be here, I’m sure.” The woman replied.  
“You mean you left her?!” Flynn exclaimed.  
“Relax,” The woman replied, “She’ll be fine.”  
“You can’t know that!” Flynn snapped, “She’s a kid on her own in a city she’s never been to before!”  
He started to push back the others to go look for her when they heard a voice say, “Flynn, I’m here.” Than Celia peaked around the corner, “I was right behind Val.” She wasn’t really, but she didn’t want anyone getting in trouble.  
Flynn rushed to her, kneeling so he was at her level and inspecting her. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes,” Celia answered, “Have I done something wrong?” Flynn still seemed upset.  
“No, honey.” Flynn responded embracing her, “No, you did so, so good.”  
“She was brilliant.” Val praised, “The girl’s got a good career in the stage ahead of her.”  
You have no idea. Flynn thought, still holding onto Celia.  
That night while his partners in crime were off mostly likely being a couple, Flynn sat in a chair in the space studio apparent they were staying in, lost in terrible thoughts. He had done the one thing he swore to himself, to Benna, to Celia that she wasn’t going to do. He used her. Maybe he hadn’t used her abilities, but he had still used her. She had been more than willing to do it, but still he had crossed a line.  
“Flynn?” A voice called out, pulling him out of his self-scolding. He looked to see Celia standing there in white night gown with sleeves that reached cozily to her wrist, and a skirt that hung to her to knees.  
“What is it honey?” Flynn asked.  
“Are you alright?” Celia asked, realizing something was amiss.  
“Yeah,” Flynn answered, “Just—thinking. “Trying to change the subject he asked, “You going to bed?”  
“Yes.” Celia replied, “Do you need me for something?”  
“No,” Flynn said, getting up, “Come on, I’ll read to you.”  
The readings were something that happened because she was still having some trouble with English, and they just kept doing it even after she because officially fluent. Celia was too old for bedtime readings and knew it, but… it was nice, so she didn’t complain.  
She went into the bedroom, where Celia got into bed while Flynn picked up a book of short stories, sitting on the edge of the bed and opening it. “The Revolt of ‘Mother’.” He began, “‘Father!’ ‘What is it?’ ‘What are them men diggin’ over there in the field for?...”  
Two Months Later  
Watching X-Files with no lights on. We’re dans la mansion…  
“What does that mean?” Incognita asked, raising her head up from her notebook.  
“I think dans la mansion is French for ‘in the house’.” Flynn answered from the driver’s seat.  
“I meant X-files.” Incognita elaborated, “What are they? And why would you watch them in the dark?”  
“The X-files was a show from the 90s.” Flynn answered, “It’s actually pretty well-known, at least here. I guess you would watch in the dark for—asthenic reasons, maybe? I’ve never really watched myself, but from what I understand it did have some—scary elements.”  
For some reason, Incognita was intrigued. “Is it still out there?”  
It took Flynn a moment to realize what he meant. “Oh, yes. Just because it ended doesn’t mean all the copies of it disappeared.”  
“Could I see it?” Incognita requested, “If it’s really so well know it might be educational.”  
Flynn laughed under his breath. He wouldn’t exactly call the show ‘educational’. “Tell you what, if you do all your lessons today, I’ll see if Benna can scrape up a few copies.”  
Despite his parenting mishaps a few months before, Flynn was seeing to it that his charge got a well-rounded education. She was currently learning reading and writing, emergency medical care, mathematics, history, polite rules of social etiquette for various countries, theology, and, while neither was sure what she would use it for, Latin.  
“Okay.” She agreed, going back to conegating verbs.  
Later that night, at Benna’s the woman came back carrying in a stack of DVDs. “You’re lucky my roommate from collage was a major X-phile back in the day, and that I’m still in touch with her. So, what do you, think, begin at the beginning?”  
“That’s probably a good idea.” Incognita agreed.  
“Hey, wasn’t an episode banned in England?” Flynn asked.  
“That’s not until season four.” Benna replied.  
“Well, if we get there we’re skipping that one.” Flynn told them bock.  
“Flynnnnn!” Incognita moaned in protests.  
“You’re too young.” Flynn responded.  
“We probably won’t even get there tonight.” Benna told them both.  
She was right, but they did make it to season three. The girl was so enthralled she begged for one more episode after one more episode, and next thing any of them knew, the adults were asleep on the couch while Incognita watched Mulder and Scully attempt to do battle with Satanists.  
Four Months Later  
“Have you seen my daughter?” Flynn pleaded, holding out a phone with Eliza’s picture on it, “I just turned around and she was gone.”  
“Sorry, mate.” The man looking at the picture, “I’m sure you’ll find her.”  
“Eliza!” Flynn shouted, “Eliza!” He ran through the street when he heard her screaming.  
“Let go of me!” Eliza screamed, struggling against her captors.  
“It’s alirght love.” The man holding the phone to take a picture of said, “Our boss just wants to take a picture to show to your dad, is all.”  
If she had thought they were talking about her biological father, that might have given her pause, but as it was, she thought they were talking about her adopted father, his bit the one holding her, and when he let her go, screaming, ran for it.  
“You little brat!” The man screamed, running after her.  
Eliza ran smack into Flynn. “You alright?” He asked her.  
Eliza nodded. “I didn’t mean to let them take me,” She began, “But there were two of them, and—”  
“Never mind that now, just get behind me.” Flynn instructed her.  
Eliza did, just as the men caught up with her.  
Flynn pulled his gun on them. “Look,” He began, “I don’t know who are, or what you want, but just let us go, and there won’t be any trouble.”  
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” One of the men replied.  
“Eliza run!” Flynn shouted.  
Eliza did as she was told, not stopping at the gun shots rang out.  
She made it back to the hotel room and fell to bed sobbing, sure that Flynn was dead. Eliza knew that if anything happened to him she was supposed to call Benna and where they were she would come get her, but she was too distruant to do anything but cry into the bed spread.  
Eliza stayed like that for an hour like that who her phone started to ring. She looked and saw it was Flynn’s number. Her hart jumped into her throat. Did she dare hope? She picked it up with an unsteady hand, and asked, “Flynn?”  
“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” Flynn assured her. “I think I lost them but I’m gonna do a few more evasive maneuvers then I’ll come back to you, okay? Where are you?”  
“Back at the hotel,” Eliza answered, “I haven’t called Benna yet. I was too…”  
“That’s alright, honey,” Flynn told her, realizing what happened, “I’ll be there soon. Love you.”  
“I love you too.” Eliza told him.  
By the time Eliza was embracing Flynn, one Dorothea Ames was showing a slightly photoshoped hologram to the girl’s long-lost uncle.   
Two Months Later  
Both Flynn and Dana’s eyes scanned the room as they walked in, even thought it was just a clothing shop. After what happened last time they were the city, they were reluctant to go back to London, however the money from the job Flynn had just completed was too good to past up. They just had few more hours to kill until their flight, and it was back to Texas.  
Or at least that was the plan, except that by fate or consequence, or whatever would have it, one Andrea Quill was looking for baby clothes with one Jaqueline MacLean.  
“I’m telling you I don’t need these little dresses.” Quill insisted, holding up a flimsy green and red gimman frock with a lacey collar. As she lowered it, she saw the girl and froze. Sure, she had only seemed the hologram for a few moments, but she could remember everything about what happened in the Metaphysical Engine as clearly as if it was still happening.  
“Andrea?” Jackie asked, realizing something was up, “What is it?”  
“Stay here.” Quill told her, walking away. She wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next and she didn’t want Jackie to get hurt. Jackie still followed but stayed several feet behind Quill as she approached the child.  
Dana was absent mindedly looking through a bunch of frilly shirts that weren’t really her thing, when a voice said, “Excuse me?”  
She turned, leapt more accurately around, to see woman completely unknown to her, but eased a bit when she saw the woman a pregnant and therefore likely not a threat.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” The woman began quickly, “I know this may sound—odd, but I wanted to ask you a question. Well, a few questions.”  
“You’re right, that is odd.” Dana replied, “Why would want to ask me anything?” She backed away a little.  
“Because you look like someone important to someone I know.” The woman offered in explanation, “Now, are your parents with you, any sort of guardian?”  
“My dad,” Dana answered quickly, gesturing over to Flynn, hoping maybe if this woman was planning sometime untoward, she would think twice if she knew Dana wasn’t alone.  
“Funny,” The woman responded, narrowing her eyes as if in suspicion, “You’ll forgive an observation, but you don’t exactly look alike.”  
“I’m adopted.” Dana answered, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”  
Quill’s heart sank as the girl ran to her guardian, or her captor, or whoever he was. She was able to pull herself behind something so they couldn’t see her, then followed them as they left.  
The first stop they made was the store’s bathroom. The girl, Dana, from what she could make out of their conversation, stepped into the ladies’ room, then stepped out looking like a completely different person. Ivory skin, dark brown hair and blue eyes.  
“Now, you look like you belong me.” The man with her, Flynn, Quill thought she had called him, declared, “Come on, let’s go.”  
As they walked away, Dana asked, “Do you think that I should make this my main form?”  
“I don’t know,” Flynn mused, “I’d have to have new identies made. It really depends on what you want.”  
As they exited the store, Quill ran out of cover. Her heart beating fast, Quill took a chance and came out of hiding. “Dana!” She called out.  
They both turned around, alarmed.  
“Look, I don’t mean either of you harm.” Quill assured them, “Two months ago, I met a creature called a Lore. Well, that wasn’t his name, his name was Ballon—”  
Dana perked up.   
“You see he had a niece, and that niece—looked like the form you were in a moment ago.” Quill continued, “And I just thought—you might be her, and if you are here—I just want to see to it that you’re alright. I owe him that much.”  
Dana pulled on Flynn’s sleeve, raising up to whisper in his ear. After a few moments of thought, Flynn suggested, “Maybe we should take this somewhere a little more private.”  
Flynn was a little hesitant to go off with this woman, this Quill and her friend, especially since he had Dana with him, but she somehow knew what Dana was, was claiming to know her uncle, they had to get to the bottom of it. Besides, if it came down to it a pregnant lady and a woman in a wheel chair couldn’t be that hair to fight off.  
He wasn’t sure, however, about the two strapping boys on the couch when they arrived, who stood up at their presence.   
“Don’t worry, they’re mostly harmless.” Quill assured them, seeing Flynn’s nervousness, “Flynn, Danna, this is Charles and Mateusz, Charles, Mateusz, this is Dana and her—what exactly is she do you, because you’re clearly not her father, you’re not even the same species. “Seeing silent alarm at the openness of the statement, she added, “Oh, they know all about aliens.”  
“Flynn saved me.” Dana spoke up.  
With that they all sat down and Flynn and Dana explained how he had found her being attacked in the alleyway. About Flynn shooting him and bringing Dana to his cusion. About taking her hand, teaching her, protecting her. In turn, Quill explained how she had met his uncle. How she had freed him. How he died.  
“They’re all gone.” Dana declared solemnly, her head lowered as a tear fell down her cheek.  
That was when Jackie spoke up. “But a part of him lives on, in Andrea.” Flynn had noticed that while everyone else called her Quill, Jackie called her by her first name.  
As if to empathize the point, Quill reached out and took Dana’s hand, putting it on her swollen stomach.  
“Flynn,” Dana began, “Can we stay in town for a few more days?”  
“Better than that,” Flynn replied, “I think, if it’s alright Miss Quill here, “We can set up permanent resident.”   
“That’s more than alright by me.” Quill replied.  
“Oh, Benna is just gonna love this.” Flynn commented, but he knew this was the right thing to do.  
They stayed on the couch that night. Well, Dana stayed on the couch, Flynn slept on the floor. When Quill was certain that everyone was asleep, she pulled her camera out. She was going to make sure Ballon’s niece was safe.


	7. The Long Unofficial Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the duration of the pregnancy, people keep given Quill unexpected baby gifts.

Quill sitting in front of the camera holding a stuffed pink seal small enough to fit in her hand. “Frist, off everyone,” She began, “Thank you for all the baby things, the dippers and the table extension. This,” She held up the seal, “Even though it’s probably the wrong color. Now, Charles, here’s how all of it works…”  
Two Months Earlier  
The first gift came two days after the incident with the crib. Quill had come down that morning and found a box on the table. She picked opened it and found a series of off-white cloths.   
She picked one up, examining, then looked at Mateusz, who had his back to her at the stove. “What are these?” She asked, “And what are they doing on the table?”  
Mateusz turned around. “They’re cloth dippers.” He answered, “I was out saw them, and thought they would be useful in a few…months. It is months, right?”  
“Yes, we still have at least month.” Quill told him, “So let me guess, these things are for poop?” She this but asked anyway.   
“Yes,” Mateusz answered, “And they’re reusable.”  
“Well, that’s gonna come in handy.” Quill responded, before picking up the box to find somewhere to put it.  
A Week and A Half Later  
“Coming, I’m coming.” Quill called out, walking to the door, “You know people just don’t drop in, in this country.”  
She opened the door and found Jackie there with large cardboard box. “Sorry, to drop by unannounced,” She began, “But I found bunch of April’s old thing and I thought…well, maybe you could use them.”  
“April’s old things?” Quill repeated, not quite getting it.  
“Her old baby things.” Jackie elaborated.  
“Oh.” Quill responded. That made more sense. “Thanks,” She picked up the box, “Come on in.”  
Inside the box were a series of bottles, baby clothes and some old toys. Quill wasn’t sure about all the pink, but after Jackie had gone to all that trouble, she wasn’t about to complain.  
“This really wasn’t necessary.” Quill insisted, smoothing out a lacey white dress.  
“I know, but I wanted to.” Jackie replied, taking a stack of onesies out.  
“And you’re sure April doesn’t want any of these?” Quill checked.  
“She shouldn’t be needing it any time soon.” Jackie assured her, “And when she does, she can take it up with you.”  
“But I thought she and—what’s the other boy’s name—Ram, were….” Quill began.  
“I don’t really want to think about that, please.” Jackie cut her off desperately.  
Two Weeks Later  
“I’ll get it!” Charlie called out, heading towards the door. He opened it and his heart plummeted when he saw who was there. “Oh. Hello Pris.”  
Pris’ face contorted in a look of displeasure. Before she knew the full story, she didn’t really have opinion on the boy who opened the door, but since learning he had been complicit in hurting someone she cared about, she didn’t like him. To say the least.  
And he knew it. She hadn’t said (or whether, wrote) anything, but he knew it.  
“Quill’s upstairs.” Charlie told her, letting her, “I think she was taking a nap or something. Just—” He pointed towards the stairs, “Up that way.”  
Pris walked up the stairs with the bag in her hand, then to the end of the hall, carefully opening the door and knocking on the side.   
This combined with a kick from her unborn child woke the teacher up. “This better be—” Quill began as she sat up but her voice trailed off when she saw who it was. “Oh. Hey Pris.”  
Pris took her pad and wrote on it, before holding in front of her with a sheepish look on her face. Charlie let me in.  
“As well he should.” Quill replied, “Sorry, if I knew you were coming I would’ve been down there.”  
Pris wrote something down, wrote something below, then turned the pad around. It’s fine. I brought something for you.  
“Really?” Quill responded. They had shared things before, but she was still surprised.  
Pris handed out the bag to her. Quill opened and pulled out a beautiful red quilt, letting out a barely audible gasp. A note on it red. For the baby.  
“You shouldn’t have…” Quill began, “It’s too expensive…”  
Not really, Prim quickly scribbled down, I found it at a thrift store. After a moment she thought to add, that’s store where you can get used stuff on the cheek. She blushed at revealing where it had come from.  
“There’s no shame in that.” Quill assured her, “It’s quite clever of you, actually. Now, come, let’s put this in the nursery.”  
They went to the nursery and very carefully set in the crib, adjusting so that it fit.  
“Well, that’s actually quite nice.” Quill commented, “Nice taste, kid.”  
Three Weeks Later  
There was some confusion the day the extension table came.  
Quill slammed the extension down in front of the boys. “I thought we agreed we were just going to use the dresser.”  
“This wasn’t me.” Charlie told her right off, “I don’t even know what this is.” He looked over to Mateusz.  
“It’s to make sure the baby doesn’t roll off the table.” Mateusz explained, “And no, this wasn’t me either.”  
“Then where did it come from?” Quill demanded, gesturing to unwanted extension.  
The next day at school the boys asked the same question.  
“Do any of you know where it came from?” Charlie asked.  
Everyone looked around each other, then Ram groaned, “Alright, it was me.”  
Everyone looked at him in surprise.  
“What?” Ram responded, “Everybody else had been pitching in, I figured I should do my part, I didn’t know you weren’t getting a table.”  
“What do you mean, ‘pitching in’?” April asked.  
“Well-,” Ram began, pointing at Mateusz, “This one’s getting diapers, your mother’s dropping off your thing—”  
“Wait, when did that happen?” Charlie cut in, confused.  
“A few weeks ago.” April responded, “Ram, how did you even get the money for that?”  
“I have some—savings put back from over the years.” Ram explained, “Birthdays, Christmas, odd jobs. I dipped into it to get something I thought she needed.”  
“Ram,” April responded, grabbing onto him, “Thant is so sweet.”  
Ram suddenly began sheepish, saying, “Really, it was nothing.”  
Before things could go any further, the warning bell rang, causing the group to scatter to wherever they were supposed to be.  
Three Days Later  
“So, what exactly are you doing with that thing?” Quill asked, the boys on either side of her, plus one of Tanya’s brothers, as they all watched Tanya tinker with the dresser and the extension.  
For the first time since that fateful day Tanya had come to their house with a tool kit and told them she had a solution to their extension problem. Somehow, she had talked them into going along with it.  
“Because,” Tanya began, “This dresser mall, and using it for a changing table, while practical, is risky. And Ram spent good money on this,” She picked up the extender, “So you might as well use it.”  
After that they all watched in silence as Tanya worked, at one point all simultaneously cocking their heads trying to keep up with her.  
When she was done, she pulled back, gesturing with her arms to the table, she said, “Tada!” She then flipped the lid up and down, saying, “I know it’s not the most asteicly pleasing thing in the world,” The dresser and extension were different colors, “But I can take it off when you don’t need it anymore.”  
Quill walked over and tried it herself. “Yes,” She mused, flipping it up and down, “Yes, this could work. Charles, Mateusz, get over here. Even if I make it through this you’re going to do diaper duty at some point, so you may as well figure out how to work this thing.”  
Two Weeks Later  
“I think I found a place.” Flynn mentioned to Quill as she walked past him.  
“Where?” Quill asked, leaning over the couch.  
“Two bedrooms flat, not too far from here, actually.” Flynn answered, “I got a meeting with realtor tomorrow.”  
“Great,” Quill responded, “I mean, not that it’s not been nice having you around, but this place is getting way too crowded.”  
“Yeah, that reminds me, have I thanked you again for letting us stay here while we figure everything out?” Flynn asked.  
“Actually, no.” Quill responded. She had been getting expressions of gratitude from him at least once a day, usually when the overcrowding became an issue.  
“Well, consider this my daily thank you.” Flynn replied, “Which for some reason also reminds me,” He pulled something from his side, “I have something for you, or more specially the baby.” He held out a small stuffed pink seal toy.  
Taking it from him, Quill asked, “You do know it’s gonna be a boy, right?”  
“I thought you hadn’t been to a doctor.” Flynn responded.  
“I haven’t actually,” Quill admitted, “It’s more of a feeling.”  
“Well, then you’re feeling might be wrong, in which case, you’ll likely need a bit of pink.” Flynn reasoned, “And if not, pink actually did use to be considered masculine.”  
“Really?” Quill perked up. She didn’t get this planet’s obsession with assigning colors to genders, but this revelation peaked her curiosity.  
“Yes, because it was considered a variation of red.” Flynn explained, “Blue use to be for girls because it was considered serine.”  
“Really?” Quill repeated “What brought on the change?”  
Flynn was silent for a moment. “Let’s just say some very, very, bad things.” He answered finally.  
Two Days Later  
Quill was bringing a stack of clothes she had got herself when she heard odd noises coming from it. She peaked her head in and saw Charlie standing above the crib.  
“Charles, what are you…what is that?” Quill asked, when she fully processed what he was doing.  
Above the Swedish crib was what looked like a strange mobile, with hand-drawn, laminated figures. The dragon from over a month ago. A sun. Some other planets. Members of their group. A man and woman who if Quill was right were the main characters of the weird American show Dana was fond of. And stars. Lots of them. The whole thing looked like a tribute to organized chaos.  
“Now, I know what you said about boundaries,” Charlie responded quickly, backing away and placing the crib himself and Quill, “B-But I started this weeks ago, and this wasn’t actually covered in either list—”  
“Do you see me going for the stick?” Quill cut him off, “I’m not necessary mad, I just want to know what it is.”  
“It’s a mobile.” Charlie explained, “It’s supposed to be help an infant’s brain develop.”  
“Well, it’ll certainty have to, to figure this out.” Quill commented walking around it, and taking hold of a picture at random, and finding her own face attacked to it. Her human face, at least. Not a bad likeness, she had to admit. Not too far from it, she realized there was another likeness of her: Her Quill form.  
“Why’d you put this here?” Quill asked, taking a hold of it and holding it out.  
“Whatever happens it should know its mother,” Charlie reasoned, “Her whole story.”  
Trying to avoid the increasing emotional moments, she picked up the two estraz FBI agents and commented, “And how exactly do these two fit into the story?”  
“That’s just what happens when we let Dana pick what we put the television.” Charlie answered, “You know, you’d think as a safe shifter she’d be offended by the show’s myth arc. I mean, she can smile and laugh. I’ve seen her do both.”  
“Oh, tell me about it, I take a shower after watching it.” Quill agreed, before her child kicked, as if in agreement.  
A Day Later  
Quill had to pause a movement as she felt a hard kick inside her.  
She was in the nursery, with its sleeves of baby things and its Swedish crib with its hand me down quilt and bizarre mobile, when the child inside her started to kick.  
“Trouble maker already.” She commented, putting a hand on her stomach. The phrase had become mantra as the kicks had become increasingly hard. “Come on, trouble maker, Mummy’s got something to say.”


	8. A Baby Changes Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for! Quill has the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1\. I saw where I've got over a hundred hits on this thing and I wanted to thank all the readers. :)  
> 2\. Warning, somewhat graphic birth scene ahead. There's no blood or anything, but I still thought it was worth forewarning.

This time as Andrea Quill peered into the camera, two things were different: One, the baby bump was gone. Two, in its place was newborn infant, bald as cue tip at the moment with skin the color of weak tea, wrapped in a blue blanket.  
“Waverly,” She began, “I made these videos in the event that I died giving birth to you. However, it appears that’s not the case, which is impressive considering my only assistance were two teenagers who got all their training from Web M. D., and a woman who knew about child birth from personal experience. “Quill paused a moment, “I want to tell you that you will be loved. That you’ll be comforted, safe and protected. But I can’t not for certain. Well, I can promise you one thing, thought.” At that point, Waverly reached out and wrapped her unbelievably tiny hand around Quill’s pinky, “You will always be loved.”  
A Day and A Half Earlier  
The first thing that alerted Quill to the situation was a pain in her back.  
At first, she thought she was just appearances aches as the result of the lateness of the pregnancy, but as it kept on, she realized what was really going on. Shit.  
Knowing she still had at least few hours until the baby was actually ready to come out, she paced around her bed. Feeling more pain, she stopped for a moment, rubbing her back and moaning.  
“What are you doing?” A voice behind her asked.  
She turned around and saw Mateusz standing there.  
“Actually,” Quill began, sitting one hand on the table to steady herself and another on her stomach, “I think I might be in labor.”  
Mateusz ran to her side, helping her sit down. “When did it start?”  
“I think about fifteen minutes ago.” Quill answered.  
“Alright, just stay here, we’ll just call April, and I’ll be right back.” He responded, hurrying back out to the hall.  
April and her mother got there was fast as they could, and the two of them, plus Mateusz wound up in her room, while she sat on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out.  
“It’s going to be okay, Andrea.” Jackie told her, with a reassuring hand on the alien’s shoulder, “Just breathe. “She turned to kids, who were monitoring Quill’s contractions, “How’s it going?”  
“So far so good.” April answered confidently.   
“See, everything is under control. You’re okay. “Jackie smiled at Quill who controlled it wearily. She wanted to make some snarky comment about knowing where April got it now but couldn’t work the energy.   
Hours had gone by and Quill’s labor was progressing slowly.   
Charlie walked into the room with a cup of ice chips. “Has her water broken yet?”  
Quill grabbed the cup of ice. “Charles, you’ve been gone for five minutes. It wasn’t broken when you left, and it hasn’t broken since.” Quill was obviously irritable and Charlie was treading on thin ice, so he stepped back out into the hallway.   
Meanwhile, April and Mateusz had gone off to the side, discussing the next step. “If it doesn’t break soon, we’re going to need to break it manually.” April told him, to which he nodded in agreement.  
Quill heard what was being said. “Can you do that?”  
“Yes.” Mateusz answered, “If not done soon the baby can undergo fetal distress. At least with human children.”  
“I’m no doctor, but I would assume the same is true for Quill babies.” Quill responded, squirming, “How much time until we have to break it?”  
“To keep it on the safe side I’m going to say half an hour.” Mateusz answered.  
“What can I do—” Quill began, but was cut off by a contraction, so strong it caused her to bend her body forward, “Ahh! God! How? Do? I? Break? It?”  
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing you can do but wait.” April spoke up.   
After a half hour of Quill not making progress, they decided it was time. “I’m going to need to scoot your body down on the bed. Mateusz went to get something to break it with, he’ll be back in a minute.”  
“You can’t use that on her.” Charlie was telling Mateusz, following his boyfriend up the stairs, “It’s not even a medical instrument.”   
“I’ve sterilized it, it should be fine.” Mateusz reasoned, walking up the stairs and heading to the room.   
“It’s a crochet needle.” Charlie responded, “Apart from the fact that it might not even work, you have no clue what it will do to her. You could render her infertile for all you know.”  
“After all the trouble this one called me, I no intention of having another!” Quill shouted out, “Andrezjewski, if he tried to stop you the stick in the closet!”  
“Did you just encourage teen domestic violence?” Jackie spoke up.  
Finally, Mateusz came back into the room with the crochet needle, approaching Quill. “Are you alright with me—” He began.  
“Just do it!” Quill cut him off.  
Mateusz crouched at the foot of the bed. “Now, this is going to feel uncomfortable at first. Just take slow breathes, okay?”  
Quilled her head up and down. Mateusz took his cue and entered her with the hook. He was right. It was uncomfortable. Quill focused her attention on the ceiling, breathing slowly, but still let out a gas of pain. A gush of clear liquid fell from between Quill’s legs. The breaking of the water.  
Quill let out sigh of relief. “Finally.  
After Charlie helped Jackie clean up the mess while April and Mateusz monitored Quill’s progress, she began groaning through a contraction.   
“It’s alright, Andera, just breathe.” Jackie soothed.  
Quill shook her head. “No. The one really hurts!” She had one hand clenched to her stomach and the other grasping Jackie’s.   
“Now that her water has broke, the labor will be progressing at a faster rate.” Mateusz stated.  
Quill didn’t know whether she was more excited by that or terrified. At that moment she seemed to be terrified. The pain she was feeling was definitely the worst she had ever felt. Forget being stabbed or shot at, throwing herself through a glass window or even having her eye stabbed out. This was much worse. “I feel like I’m tearing in two.” She groaned.  
Jackie huffed a laugh. “Well, you’re doing really good.” She said, patting Quill on the shoulder.  
“She’s right.” April spoke up encouragingly, “Just a little more now.”  
Quill got another contraction and grabbed Jackie’s hand. “Ahh! Oh my God! How does anyone do this more than once?!” Her body bent forward. Jackie could feel the strain of the other woman’s body. It wasn’t out of the ordinary given the situation, but given what she had been told, she was getting concerned.  
“I feel him moving!” Quill shouted, “I’m gotta push!”  
“Whoa, hold on.” April responded, getting between Quill’s legs, “Okay, whenever you’re ready- “  
Quill started pushing before the girl could finish the sentence.   
Quill continued to push when she suddenly felt a white-hot burning sensation. She could feel her skin stretching and became vaguely aware that her body wasn’t supposed to stretch that far regardless of form. “What’s happening? “She asked in strained voice.  
“It’s the head.” April answered.  
“Is it stuck or something?” Quill asked, panicked.  
Jackie laughed to herself, before speaking up. “No, you’re just pushing it out. It’s the hardest part of the body to get out.” She was speaking from experience.  
“Oh, great.” Quill responded, rolling her eyes.  
“Come on, Andrea, keep pushing.” Jackie encouraged as she helped Quill into the upright position. Quill bore down.  
“That’s it Quill,” April spoke up, “The head’s almost out.”  
Quill pushed harder. “Son of a bitch!” She spat, clutching to her stomach. It was then she started to feel…oddly weak. This scared her, but it could be the result of her spending several hours pushing a child out of her, as opposed to her dying.  
April lightly tapped Quill’s thigh. “I need you to push again.”  
Quill grasped Jackie’s hand again and squeeze it for all it was worth as she huffed, “Arggh! Nggh!”  
“That’s it, Andrea, you’re doing so good.” Jackie praised her.  
“Keep pushing, Quill, she’s almost out.” Mateusz added, peering over April’s shoulder.  
Unfortunately, Quill could feel herself fading. “I’m tired.” She painted.  
“Come on, Andrea, just a little more.” Jackie responded, exchanging worried looks with the teenagers that none of them let Quill see, “The worst part is over.”  
Quill pushed using all the energy she could muster. She could no longer hold herself upright by here, so Mateusz support her back with his arm, partially holding her. Finally, her baby sild out of her into April’s arms, wailing her way into the world. “It’s a girl.”  
“What?” Quill responded, pulling out of her stupor and managing to hold her head up.  
“I guess you’re going to need those dresses after all.” Jackie chuckled.  
“Is she supposed to be doing that?” April continued, worried. The baby seemed to be—rippling, her skin molding.  
“What is it?” Quill asked, trying to sit up, “What’ wrong?”  
“The father was a shape shifter.” Mateusz reminded them, “Maybe this is normal?”  
“Give her to me.” Quill insisted, “Give her to me now!”  
Mateusz help Quill completely upright and April handed her the child. In her mother’s arms, the baby rippled and molded until it looked like a human infant, thought the fingers and toes were a bit too short and the eyes a bit too big. She was still beautiful.  
“Look at you.” Quill said softly, gazing into the infant’s eyes as she toyed with Quill’s index finger, “Look at you little…little glorious thing.” Did other mothers behold their newborn children as she did? Did they find themselves stopped, breathless, in what they were doing to merely stare, in wonder at the tiny life before them?  
“How are you feeling?” April asked, still concerned, pulling Quill out of her trance.  
“I don’t feel amazing but I feel normal.” Quill responded, not taking her eyes off the child, “Just—tired.” Addressing the yet to be named infant, she added, “Speaking of which, young lady, we need to have a little talk about all the trouble you caused your mother, especially coming out.”  
However, as they performed examinations to make mother and daughter were okay, Quill didn’t see too upset with the girl.  
They left them alone for about an hour and half before Jackie entered the doorway. “Mind if I get a closer look?”  
“Of course.” Quill agreed.  
Jackie wheeled over to Quill’s bedside. “She’s beautiful.” She praised, “You decided what to call her yet?”  
“Considering I’m still slightly recovering from pushing her out of body I haven’t really thought on it.” Quill snarked, “But I have given some. How does…. Waverly Jaqueline Quill sound?”  
Jackie was silent for a moment. “I think Waverly is a beautiful name. As for…. I’m honored, really.”  
Curious, Waverly took her arm out of the safety of her blanket, reaching towards Jackie.  
“Welcome to the world, Waverly Quill.” Jackie cooed.  
“Please don’t do that.” Quill responded flatly, “Don’t do the baby voice thing.”  
“Alright,” Jackie sighed, resigned, but held a pair of crossed fingers behind her back.  
“Jackie?” Quill asked.  
Jackie looked at her.  
“Thanks for being there today.” Quill said, “For helping me get through it.”  
“Like I keep saying, it was nothing, really.” Jackie responded humbly, “You did most of the work.”  
“Yeah,” Quill responded slowly, “Never doing that again. This one is enough.”  
The next visitor came when Quill was feeding Waverly for the second time.  
“Oh,” Charlie grunted, moving back in and blocking his view with the wall, “Sorry, I didn’t—wait, you can actually nurse?”  
“Normally, I would be offended that you just assumed something, but considering I wasn’t sure about this either, I’ll let it go.” Quill responded, before turning her attention back to Waverly, “This one eats like mad, and has got quite the grip on her. Humans seem to be rather impressed with a baby grip, though they can’t do anything with it.”  
“Perhaps it’s because there so small the fact they have a grip at all is impressive.” Charlie suggested.  
“Hmm,” Quill mused, “You might be onto something there.” Indeed, it had occurred to her that for someone so unbelievably tiny, she seemed unbelievably strong, especially right now.  
“So, ah, Ms. McLean says she’s called Waverly?” Charlie began, “Where did you get that from?”  
“It was just one of the names me and Jackie looked at that I liked.” Quill replied, “It means wavers in the meadow of swaying aspens.”  
“Well, that is…oddly specific.” Charlie responded.  
“I thought it was more than a bit flowery myself, but no one cares about the meanings of names all that much.” Quill reasoned, “And besides, I think it works on her somewhat. I mean, I’m not sure what Waverlys look like, but I guess it would be this.”  
“Why does she look so—human?” Charlie asked, taking a peak at the child then pulling back, as she was still feeding, which meant that Quill was still less than half dressed.  
“Are you criticizing my child?” Quill demanded, narrowing her eyes.  
“No,” Charlie stammered, “I just—just—”  
“I’ll have you know my child is perfect in every way!” Quill declared indignantly, “And the reason is she in this form is because she saw that this is what the people around her looked like, proving she is smart in top of everything else.”  
“Just like her mother.” Charlie responded, partly simply trying to pacify Quill, partly honestly complimenting her, “I’m just going to go.” He began to leave but came back. “But Quill? I’m glad you’re all right.”  
Later Quill walked into the nursery with a half-asleep Waverly. She had been up and asleep several times, but now was time to officially put her to bed.  
“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down.” Quill sang softly, “You’ll be alright.” She lowered the child into the crib as her eyes closed. “Come morning, light,” She carefully covered the child with the blankets in the crib, including Pris’ quilt, “You and I’ll be safe and sound.”  
By the then the infant was sound asleep, but Quill just kept staring, as suddenly the only things that existed in the world was the two of them. Waverly truly was perfect. How could she make something so utterly perfect? How could anyone?  
Unwilling to leave her baby daughter, Quill lowered herself to the ground, and slept there.  
The next day, shortly after Quill had fed Waverly her breakfast, Flynn brought Dana over.  
“Can I hold her?” Dana asked nervously.  
Quill froze a moment. She was hesitant to let anyone who wasn’t her hold Waverly yet, but she knew that people were going to want to eventually. And they were cusions.  
“I’m not sure Miss Quill’s ready for that, honey.” Flynn told Dana.  
“No,” Quill spoke up, carefully holding out the baby, “It’s fine.” As they transferred the tot Quill cautioned, “Careful, make sure to support the head.”  
Dana did, staring down at the child. “Hey, Waverly, “She smiled, “I’m sure cusion.”  
Suddenly, as if she had processed what was said and knew the condonation of the word cusion, Waverly’s skin began to darken to a honeyed brown, as if the pale of Quill’s human guise had mixed with the not-at-all-pale of Ballon’s.  
“That’s incredible.” Flynn stated.  
“She’s part shape shifter remember?” Dana reminded them.  
“What, it’s that simple?” Ram asked later, after Dana and Flynn had left and Ram had dropped by to check on everyone at the same time Tanya and her brothers did. Said brothers were standing awkwardly by the door, in between them and Tanya and Quill who were in the floor with the baby.  
“It’s just a theory.” Quill responded, her attention still on Waverly, “But what now it’s the best we have. And we know from yesterday that she can shape-shift to a degree.”  
“Have you figured anything else yet?” Tanya asked, “About her biology?” She figured that with her hybrid status they were in more or less uncharted terrtority.  
‘’I think we’re gonna have to figure that as we go along.” Quill responded, “She’s probably going to have more resistance to your deasies though.”  
“Why aren’t you two a lot more sick than you are, anyway?” Tanya asked, now that Quill mentioned it.  
“The Doctor dropped off a load of anti-bodics with us until our bodies could adapt.” Quill answered.  
“At least he had that much thought.” Tanya replied, feeling a little bitter. Then Waverly started failing her arms it was suddenly hard to keep the feeling, as suddenly the child was the most important thing again.  
Later, after everyone had left again and Waverly had gone down for her nap, Quill ‘resting her eyes’ as well beside the crib. She was awoken by the sound of crying. “What’s wrong love?” She asked, thought she knew she get no coherent response, rising to her feet and picking Waverly up. She sniffs her bottom. “Not it” She a quiet a moment then asked, “Hungry again?” While again, she got no answer, it was pretty good guess so she began lower her top. The child latched instantly.  
“There you go,” Quill cooed, then hearing the patter of feet in the hall, called out, “I got this one, so unless you want an eyeful go about your business!”  
Suddenly there was the found of feet going the other direction and Charlie saying, “When she says an eyeful she means an eyeful.” Quill couldn’t help but smirk.  
While Quill was nursing, she had time to make a decision about something she had been thinking about. Though she had survived the birth of her child, the tapes could prove useful to someone else one day.  
“There you go.” Quill chimed again, once she put her top back on and stood up with the child, “How would you feel about making a little video with me, eh, sweetheart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more things:  
> 1\. I do not recommend using a crochet needle for surgery. In fact, half this story, don't try this at home, kids.   
> 2\. That's it folks. This is the end. I had hoped to get ten chapter but I had done everything I set out to do, and couldn't think of everything else. Thanks to everyone who took their time to read this. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
